


Forget-Me-Not

by shadowsamurai



Category: Waking the Dead (TV)
Genre: Amnesia, Angst, Character Death, Explicit Language, F/M, Family, Friendship, Gen, Mild Language, Original Character(s), Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-11
Updated: 2012-07-11
Packaged: 2017-11-09 15:56:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 20
Words: 33,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/457293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowsamurai/pseuds/shadowsamurai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An accident on a case leads to a life-changing decision for Boyd regarding Grace.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The End

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers: Up to and including Season 7, set some time after Pieta.  
> This story will be set over a period of decades - there will a date at the beginning of each chapter.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything, I'm just borrowing things for a while and I promise I'll put everything back exactly how I found it when I've finished. Well, almost exactly how I found it. ;)

 

WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD

*May, 2030*

Boyd shuffled into the living room, one hand gripping a tumbler of whisky, the other holding a walking stick. He would have liked more liquid in his glass, but he knew he'd only end up spilling it; his hands weren't as steady as they used to be, and it had nothing to do with how much he drank.

Boyd stopped near the mantle, his eyes settling on the photos that sat there. A lump formed in his throat and he attempted to clear it with a large gulp of whisky. He always thought it ironic that he never once wanted photos around him, and now he was surrounded by the damn things. He had to be, really, ever since….

He squeezed his eyes shut. He knew he couldn't escape the reality of the situation, but just for once, he didn't want to think about what had happened. The fact of the matter was it *had* happened, and there was fuck all he could do about it. But how he wished, at times, he could change it all.

Then again, did he really want to? Boyd shook his head and took another drink. Changing the past would mean she wouldn't be in his life, probably, and that was definitely an unacceptable idea. She *was* his life, now, anyway.

Boyd's eyes rested on the promotion pictures, the birthday parties and Christmas snaps. The team were all there. There was Spence when he got promoted to Detective Superintendent, and there was Stella when she reached DS, and then DI not long afterwards. There was the day Spence was put in charge of the cold case unit, and there was the day Eve received an award for her…work. Boyd couldn't remember exactly what the award was for, but it didn't matter.

And there they were at his sixtieth birthday, Boyd in the centre of the photo, Grace next to him, and there they were at Grace's seventieth. There they all were at Christmas; in fact, every Christmas since the 'accident'…well, one person was missing in the later ones. All the photos, all the memories that he had and she didn't, they were all there.

Boyd sniffed, cursing himself for going soft. Sometimes he really thought fate hated him. Sometimes he thought life was playing one huge, cruel joke on him. Yet there were other times when he thought things couldn't get any better. Those moments were as rare as red diamonds, and he treasured them all as much as he treasured Grace.

"Boyd!"

He stopped, frozen to the spot. He must be hearing things. He *had* to be. He knew, he was *certain*, he'd forgotten to leave the sheet of paper upstairs, the one that told Grace to shout for 'Boyd' if she needed anything; the one that told her he'd actually be there. Looking around, Boyd saw it lying on the desk. There was no way she could know he was in the house unless that piece of paper was there, no way at all.

"Boyd!"

The tone was slightly more impatient that time, and Boyd squeezed his eyes tightly shut. This was not happening, it *couldn't* be. Though it was just his bloody sodding luck that it *would* be happening now.

"Boyd!"

For a brief moment, Boyd was transported back years ago in his memory, when he was still working. They were in the office, and Grace was shouting impatiently at him for some thing or other. She seemed to use that tone often with him.

Snapping back to reality, Boyd realised that he wasn't hearing things or hallucinating; Grace was shouting for him. Grace remembered he was in the house with her; in their house.

"I'm coming," he shouted back, although his voice was more of a croak. He put his glass down and rushed up the stairs as fast as his aged body would allow him.

He paused in the bedroom doorway, not sure he had the courage to go in. Grace looked at him with a mixture of astonishment and pure shock. "I remember you," she said softly, as though she was afraid that by voicing her thoughts, she'd shatter the illusion. "I remember everything. Oh God, Boyd!"

Boyd's resolve splintered at her heartbroken tone and he crossed the room as quickly as he could. Grace moved over and motioned the bed, and Boyd slowly manoeuvred himself so he was sat next to her. She rolled over and curled into his side, and he wrapped his arms around her.

"I didn't think it was possible," he whispered. "No one did."

Grace just nodded; she was too busy crying. Over twenty years worth of memories had come flooding back to her in an instant and she was having a hard time assimilating it all.

"Why now?" Boyd asked quietly, although he thought he already knew the answer and if he was right, it was, he decided, the ultimate cruel joke that the universe could have played on him.

Grace ignored him. There were so many things she didn't understand from her memories, but there was only one thing she wanted an answer to. "Why, Boyd? Why did you stay?"

Boyd held her closer, vowing silently that he wouldn't let her see him cry. "Because - because I love you. Because I was the only one who could, and would, look after you," he replied brokenly. "Because I couldn't imagine my life without you in it."

Grace disengaged herself from him and struggled to sit up. She caressed his wrinkled cheek and then kissed him. "I can never thank you enough."

He shook his head. "You don't need to."

She smiled at him and kissed him again. "I love you too." She snuggled into his shoulder as much as she could, and held him as tightly as their bodies would allow. "Sing to me, Boyd."

He gave a small laugh. "You know I can't sing to save my life," he replied. "But I can hum."

"That's close enough."

So Boyd started to hum. It was out of tune and sounded absolutely awful to anyone else, but to Grace it was wonderful. She closed her eyes and allowed herself to drift.

Boyd listened to Grace's breathing even out, her heart beating at a steady rhythm as she fell asleep. He stopped humming, just wanting to listen to her next to him. After a while, the rhythms changed and Boyd's throat constricted. Grace's breathing became shallower, her heartbeat slower, until finally, the only sounds in the room were coming from Boyd.

He thought he'd be happy; the heartache was finally over for both of them. Grace was now at peace, and that was want Boyd wanted. But as he cradled her lifeless body to him, he realised his heartache had only just begun; his worse nightmare had come true.

His life no longer had Grace in it, and already it seemed a darker place.

For the first time in many years, Peter Boyd cried.

TBC


	2. The Beginning

WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD

*21 years earlier….*

*March, 2009*

"Grace!"

Grace winced. "There's no need to shout, Boyd, I'm not deaf yet," she snapped.

Boyd looked a little surprised. "I didn't know if you could hear me or not."

She glared at him. "I'm less than five feet away from you, Boyd. Of course I can bloody well hear you."

"No need to get testy, Grace," he replied in a mild voice.

"I wouldn't if you didn't shout."

"Oh please, not the 'use your indoor voice' speech, Grace!" Boyd yelled back, all traces of calmness gone. "I'm not five!"

"Sometimes I wonder."

Spencer and Stella glanced at each other. "Is it me or are they getting better at this?" Stella murmured.

"They're getting better."

Eve poked her head through the doors. "Is it safe to come in yet or do you two have more yelling to do?" she asked Boyd and Grace.

"Do you have anything constructive to say?" Boyd retorted, his voice deadly quiet.

Eve was unperturbed; that tone could make men cower, yet the scientist just looked at the policeman and said, "Yes, actually, I do."

"Oh, good, let's hear it," Grace muttered, sitting down between Stella and Spencer. Boyd folded his arms and leant against the wall, his stance positively aggressive. Eve glanced at him, unsure whether to speak or not. Grace followed her gaze and said, "Don't mind him, he's just sulking."

The muscles in Boyd's jaw clenched and his eyes flashed dangerously, but Grace didn't notice anything. Eve swallowed and decided to look at Spencer and Stella instead; they seemed glad of the distraction.

"Alright. The DNA from the scarf and the knife belong to the same person, and the DNA from the cigarette butt and polystyrene coffee cup belong to another," Eve said.

Spencer sighed. "That's just great. Throws our theory right out the window."

"Not really, it just means the scarf couldn't have been used to bind or gag the victim," Eve replied. "I've checked, and the DNA on the scarf and the knife *do* match the victim's."

"Is it me or does something not add up here?" Grace asked, frowning in thought.

"Something doesn't add up," Stella replied.

"Anything else?" Boyd asked, speaking for the first time since Grace's comment.

"Not yet. I'll let you know what I've got something."

"Thanks, Eve," Boyd said. The scientist nodded and scuttled back to the safety of the lab. "Grace, a word in my office, please."

Spencer and Stella glanced at each other; they both knew that deceptively mild tone meant more shouting was about to ensue. Grace looked slightly surprised but rose to her feet and walked towards Boyd's office. He stepped to one side to allow her to enter the room before him, and then closed the door after her.

"While I appreciate that you are not under my command as such, I am still the head of this team and I will not be spoken to like that in front of my subordinates again, Grace," he told her firmly. "If you want to question my methods, do so in here, but do not undermine my authority. Understand?"

Grace blinked and moved back slightly, the tone of his voice worrying her. "Yes. Yes, I understand," she replied, finding a store of resolve from somewhere. "Don't you even want to know why I'm angry at you?"

Boyd put his glasses on slowly and picked up a sheet of paper, lowering his head to read it. "Not really."

"Boyd, you are insufferable!" Grace exclaimed, throwing her hands up in the air. "It's been almost a year since Luke died, and you still haven't spoken to anyone about it. You *promised* me, Boyd, that you wouldn't exclude me if you needed help. Since you haven't talked to me about *anything* yet, that means you either don't think you need help or you don't want mine."

"Not everything's about you, Grace!" Boyd shouted back. "And it's not about me either, before you say that!"

"But it is, Boyd," Grace said in exasperation. "Don't you see?"

Boyd glared at her. "You think I'm self-centred? You think the world has to revolve around me? I'm the boss - that doesn't mean it's all about me."

Grace shook her head. "Yes, you're in charge, but it's all about you because we care about you! We *want* to help, but you won't let us."

"Is that the royal 'we' or the team 'we'?" Boyd asked.

"The team. Don't be facetious, it doesn't suit you."

"I'm fine."

Grace sighed, but the sound trembled as it came out. "No, you're not," she said softly, leaning forward. "Boyd, I am begging you - don't shut me out. If you don't want to talk, or to deal with what's happened, that's fine. I won't bring it up again. But don't shut me out of your life."

Boyd frowned. "I don't -"

"Yes, you do know what I mean. If you feel you need to punish yourself over your failure with Luke, do it another way. Don't push away the people who care about you."

An uncomfortable silence descended on the room while Boyd debated between yelling loudly and denying Grace's spot-on blow, or actually being man enough once to admit she was right.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his head lowered. "I'll try not to, but I can't promise anything. I'm an old dog; habits are hard to break."

Grace smiled. "You're not old."

Boyd looked up. "Thanks."

"You're stubborn."

He frowned. "Why did you have to ruin the compliment, Grace?" he whined.

"I don't want your ego to inflate any more," she told him as she stood up, then her expression softened. "Are you okay now?"

"For now, thank you. And I know where you are if I need you. You're…." He turned and pointed to Grace's office across the hall. "…There. Or there." He pointed to the bullpen. "Or through there." He pointed in the direction of the lab. "Or…."

"Bye, Boyd," Grace said before shutting the door again.

She glanced at Spencer and Stella as she walked to her office and gave them the thumbs up, letting them know everything was okay again.

She hadn't been sat at her desk long when the phone rang. "Hello?"

*"Just checking where you were,"* Boyd's voice replied. *"Not that I want to talk yet, but you're a hard woman to keep track of sometimes, Grace."*

Grace laughed, put the phone down, and shook her head, glad things were back to normal. Well, what passed for normal in that office, anyway.

TBC


	3. The Breakthrough

WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD

*April, 2009*

"Alright, we've been at this case for months now and we haven't got any further. You know how cranky I get when we don't get results, so what've we got?" Boyd asked, pacing the room.

"We know how cranky you get no matter what," Grace muttered, and Boyd glared at her. She held her hands up. "Sorry."

The DSI looked at his DI. "Spence."

"Right," Spencer said, standing up. "We've got the victim, a young female in her early twenties, Amy Tibban. No signs of a struggle or any sexual interference with the body, but then again, it was so badly burnt we were lucky to get anything from it. We've got a polystyrene cup, a cigarette butt, a scarf and a knife all connected with the murder. We've got a DNA match for the cigarette and the cup, and Amy's DNA on the scarf and the knife."

"Everyone we've spoken to has an alibi for the night of Amy's murder," Stella continued. "And as far as we can tell, no one had a motive for killing her."

"I've built up a profile from what her friends and family have said, and she seems like your normal, average young woman," Grace said. "Except for one thing."

Boyd stopped pacing. "The photo we found."

Grace nodded and looked at him. "Exactly. There was no mention of a boyfriend and none of her friends recognised the man in the photo."

"Hold on, hold on," Spencer said slowly. "What about that girl…Tina. Tina Black. When we questioned her about the photo, she hesitated before answering and then got all flustered."

Stella nodded. "That's right."

"Okay, go and talk to her again." Boyd looked at Eve. "Anything you want to add?"

"Actually, there is." Eve moved to the board. "I've been looking at these items and it just doesn't make sense to me. I got clear blood samples and fingerprints from this knife; only the victim's."

Grace frowned. "You think Amy did this to herself?"

"What, while someone else drank coffee, smoked a cigarette and watched?" Boyd asked.

Eve shrugged. "I just deal with the evidence; detective work is supposed to be your area of expertise. But if you want my opinion…."

Boyd gestured. "Please."

"I'd say Grace could be right," Eve continued. "I found what could be a wound on the victim's inner thigh, but the flesh is too badly charred to tell for certain. It would never stand up in court, let's put it that way."

"You want us to go and interview Tina now, boss?" Spencer asked.

Boyd stared at him. "Are you still here?"

Spencer rolled his eyes and looked at Stella. "I think that's a 'yes'. Come on."

"Alright, so you're saying that someone watched Amy cut herself," Boyd said, mimicking the action on his own leg, "and then set the body on fire? Why?"

"Maybe it was something that went wrong," Grace suggested, moving to lean against the desk, next to Boyd.

"What? Sexual act?"

"Not necessarily."

Eve watched the two of them and said, "I'll just…." She pointed to the lab, but they were too wrapped up in their own little world to notice. The scientist just shrugged and left.

"Some sort of cult?" Boyd continued, unaware Eve had gone.

Grace spread her hands. "I don't know, Boyd," she said in exasperation.

Boyd put his arm around her and squeezed her shoulder briefly. "Alright, Grace, I was just asking. That's my job, asking questions." He removed his arm and laced his fingers together in his lap. "I think he…." He pointed to the unknown man in the photo. "…knows what happened. I think he was there."

"I think you're right," Grace agreed.

Boyd turned slightly to look at the profiler and crossed his arms. "Do you think it was an accidental death which was then covered up by burning the body?"

"Like someone panicked," Grace said, nodding. "It's possible. But until we find him, we'll never know."

"Hmm," Boyd murmured. Then without another word, and without uncrossing his arms, he stood and walked into his office, leaving Grace to stare at the board.

WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD

"Miss Black, I don't know if you remember us or not…," Spencer started to say.

The woman in front of him cut him off quite quickly. "Yes, I remember you. You're police officers. What do you want?" Her tone was blunt and unfriendly.

"We just wanted to ask you a few more questions," Stella said calmly.

Tina shook her head. "Now isn't a very good time for me."

"I'm sorry, Miss Black, we were under the impression that you and Amy Tibban were friends," Spencer replied in a mild voice. "I would have thought you would want the person who murdered her found, or were we wrong in our assumption?"

Tina debated about bluffing, doing anything to get rid of them, but she could tell by the expressions on their faces that they knew something different to last time. "Alright, come in."

Spencer smiled as he passed her. "Thank you."

"Last time we spoke to you, we showed you this picture," Stella said, taking the photo out again. "Do you recognise the man in it?"

Tina shook her head firmly. "No."

Spencer leant forward, his dark eyes boring into hers. "Miss Black, I think you're lying. This man could quite possibly have killed Amy."

"Are you worried he might hurt you as well?" Stella asked.

"Good point," Spencer replied quickly, nodding. "After all, if he murdered your friend in cold blood, and then burnt her body, what's to stop him doing the same to you?"

"Garry would never do that!" Tina exclaimed, then winced.

Spencer smiled at her. "Let's try this again. Do you know this man?" Stella showed her the photo.

Tina hung her head. "Yes," she whispered.

"Good. Now then, we need to talk, and we can either do it here or at our office," Spencer told her.

"What do you want to know?" Tina asked, spreading her hands.

WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD

"Grace!"

Grace closed her eyes and banged her hand slightly on the desk. "Boyd, there's no need to…." She looked up as she felt someone nudge her shoulder. "…Shout."

Boyd smiled down at her as he put a cup of tea on her desk. "Sorry, bad habit."

She eyed him suspiciously as he sat down opposite her, his mug of coffee cradled in one hand. Grace took her glasses off and leant onto her desk. "What do you want?"

Boyd looked hurt. "I thought you might like a drink."

"My mother always said beware strange men baring gifts, and they don't come much stranger you, Boyd."

"Grace," he protested.

"Just telling the truth. So, what do you want?"

Boyd sipped his drink. "To talk. With you. Sometime. About…about what happened with…Luke."

"Okay," Grace replied, and then she smiled at him. "I'm not doing anything now."

"Actually, you are."

"Am I?"

Boyd nodded. "You're going to interview Garry Hodges with me."

"Who?"

Boyd took another drink before answering. "Garry Hodges. The man in the photo."

Grace looked both surprised and impressed. "Spence and Stella found him?"

"They're bringing him in now," Boyd said, nodding.

"How long?" she asked. Boyd opened his mouth to reply and his mobile rang, making Grace laugh. "I bet you couldn't do that again."

He smiled briefly before growing serious again. "Hi, Spence. Yeah…yeah…alright, thanks." He ended the call and slipped his mobile back into his pocket. "Mr Hodges is waiting for us in interview room one. Shall we?"

Boyd escorted Grace down the corridor, and when they reached their destination, he opened the door and allowed her to enter before him. He ushered her gently to her seat with his hand touching her back, and Grace had to suppress her smile at the small gesture of intimacy.

"I am Detective Superintendent Boyd, this is Dr. Grace Foley, and you are…?" Boyd said.

The man opposite him looked neither put out, uncomfortable, or nervous. "You know who I am."

Boyd smiled at him, then looked at Grace, and then back at the man opposite them. "Let's try this again; please state your name for the tape."

Grace noticed a small smirk tug at the man's lips, and she was certain Boyd had seen it too. It was not a good sign. "Garry Hodges."

"Thank you, Mr Hodges. Now tell me, do you, or did you, know someone by the name of Amy Tibban?" Boyd asked.

Garry frowned. "Not that I know of."

"I see. In that case, can you tell me why she had this picture of you in her possession?"

"That's an old photo, Superintendent," Garry commented by way of reply.

"Nine years to be exact, which was about the time Amy was murdered," Boyd said, his voice flat.

"I'm sorry to hear that, but I don't know who you're talking about."

"Perhaps this will help you remember," Grace said, and pushed the photo of Amy's charred remains across the table.

Garry's face paled. "Oh God," he murmured, his hand flying to his mouth.

Boyd turned to look at Grace, one eyebrow slightly raised. She just smiled briefly at him, and then pushed another photo across to Garry. "I'm sorry, Mr Hodges, that is a rather bad picture. Perhaps this one is better."

Garry stared at both photos for some time but never said anything. Boyd was beginning to lose patience. "Look, Mr Hodges, we know you knew Amy Tibban, yeah? So why don't you save us both a lot of time and start talking now," the policeman said, one hand gesturing wildly.

"How do you know I knew her?"

For a brief moment, Grace thought Boyd was going to give Tina's name away, but he didn't. "The 'how' is not important; what *is* important is that we *do* know that you knew Amy Tibban," Boyd said, finishing slowly.

Garry covered his face with his hands for a moment. "Alright, I did know her, and before you asked, I lied because her parents would have gone nuts if they'd known about me and Amy."

"Where you in a relationship?" Grace asked quietly.

Garry nodded. "We met about four months before she…died, at a Wiccan gathering."

"Wicca?" Grace repeated.

Garry nodded again. "We were both interested in spiritualism and witchcraft and things like that, but we both agreed the Wicca path wasn't for us. No one else felt that way, so we left and spent time together instead."

Boyd leant forward, his dark eyes piercing in their gaze. "Mr Hodges, we would like to take a sample of your DNA."

"Why?" Garry asked, immediately defensive.

"Two different DNA profiles were found at the crime scene. We've eliminated everyone else from our enquiries, anyone who might have known Amy or been with her, but not you," Boyd replied, his leg jittering ever so slightly under the table. Grace recognised the sign - it meant he was lying - and she subtly put her hand on his thigh. His leg stopped moving immediately.

Garry held Boyd's gaze for a surprising amount of time before sagging. "Alright, but there's no need. I was there."

"We still need that DNA, I'm afraid," Boyd replied.

"Alright," Garry replied.

Boyd turned slightly. "Stella, could you…?"

The door opened and the young police woman walked in carrying a DNA swap kit. "If you could just open your mouth for me," she said, smiling at Garry. He obliged and a minute later, Stella left again, muttering, "I'll take this to the lab now," as she went through the door.

Boyd just nodded and turned his attention back to Garry. "So, would you like to tell us what happened?"

"Amy and I started to study some of the more…obscure avenues of spiritualism and witchcraft," Garry began without preamble. "One day, Amy told me that she'd found this ritual which would make us achieve nirvana."

"Was it sexual?" Grace asked.

Garry shook his head. "It involved blood letting. I was firmly against the idea, but Amy was adamant she wanted to try it. The ritual was simple - cut yourself somewhere, put three drops in a bowl of water with a floating candle in it. Then just sit and wait."

Boyd looked at incredulously. "And this was supposed to help Amy reach…." He gestured.

"Nirvana," Grace supplied.

"Yeah, that."

Garry shrugged. "I told you it was stupid. I thought she'd got it more from a self-harm manual than a spiritual ritual."

Grace was studying him. "What went wrong?"

"I sat watching, to make sure there were no problems. I must have smoked a packet of cigarettes and drunk more coffee than was good for me out of worry," Garry replied. "Amy tied a scarf around her upper thigh to try and stop too much blood from flowing, just in case there *was* a problem. Then she cut herself."

"On the inner thigh?" Boyd asked, seeking confirmation. Garry nodded. "Why there?"

"No one could see it and ask awkward questions," he replied.

"What went wrong?" Grace repeated softly.

Garry started to fidget. "She - Amy was nervous. Her hand slipped, she cut too deep, and before I could get help, she was dead. I - I panicked. I threw my cigarette down and fled."

Boyd looked at him carefully. "Was the cigarette still lit?"

Garry shrugged. "I don't know! I mean, I guess so, I don't remember!"

"Why didn't you come forward before now, Garry?" Grace asked.

"I left the country for a while, and when I came back, it had all blown over. I didn't see any point in opening old wounds."

Boyd looked at his watch, spoke the time and then stopped the tape. He stood and wordlessly gestured for Grace to do the same. "Well?" he asked once they were in the observation room.

"We can't hold him. He didn't actually do anything wrong," Grace replied.

Boyd pulled a face. "Yeah…I know."

"You really fancied him for this didn't you?"

He looked her in the eye. "Yes, I did." He threw his hands up in the air. "Argh!" Boyd left the room and opened the interview room door. "Alright, Mr Hodges, you can go, but don't go very far. We might want to talk to you again."

Garry just nodded. "Yes, Superintendent."

Boyd watched him go and once alone, he sagged against the wall of the interview room, his eyes closed. He sensed Grace's presence before he felt her arm brush his. "Some breakthrough, huh?" she said softly.

Boyd just nodded. "Yeah," he replied tiredly. "Some breakthrough."

TBC


	4. The Disaster

WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD

*May, 2009*

Boyd's phone rang and he answered it in a bored tone. "Boyd."

*"Can you come over?"*

"My office is just as far away from yours as yours is from mine, Grace! Can't you come here?" Boyd protested.

*"I'll make it worth your while,"* Grace replied. *"Don't take too long in deciding; you know women don't like to be kept waiting."*

Before he could reply, she put the phone down. Returning the receiver to its cradle, Boyd sat back in his chair and counted to twenty slowly before leaving his office, making a pit stop at the coffee machine and heading to Grace's office.

"This had better be good," he said grumpily, sitting heavily on her couch after placing a mug of coffee on her desk.

"Ah, good might be an overstatement," Grace replied, pulling a face.

Boyd closed his eyes and leant his head against the back of the couch, and the profiler waited for the inevitable outburst of 'Grace!'. But it never came. "So what have you got, then?" he asked quietly.

"Move up," Grace told him, coming round her desk and sitting next to him. "Right, I've been going over that interview with Garry Hodges."

Boyd looked at her. "Is that what you've been doing all week?"

Grace nodded. "There were certain things that didn't…."

"Add up," Boyd said for her.

"Yes, exactly. Now, do you remember when we went into the interview room and you introduced us?"

"Yes."

"Garry never blinked once. He never twitched or moved at all. He was totally composed, Boyd, which means he's either a very calm man, or he's a very good actor," Grace said. "He wanted us to know he was in control."

"Of himself or the situation?" Boyd asked.

Grace gave a little shrug. "Quite possibly both. Now, when you asked Garry to state his name, he smirked."

Boyd nodded. "I saw that. I thought he was going to us a lot of trouble."

"I thought the same thing, but he didn't. That made me suspicious to start with," Grace said. "Then when I showed him Amy's remains, his reaction was textbook."

"That doesn't mean he was faking it, Grace."

"No, but did you notice him cover his face with his hands after he asked you how you knew he knew Amy?"

Boyd stared at her. "I'm not senile yet, Grace. Of course I remember."

"You thought he was distraught, didn't you," she stated. "Or even thinking about how long he could keep his lie up."

"Yes, I did," Boyd replied, nodding slowly. "Are you telling me I was wrong?"

"I think Garry was trying to work out who could have told us that he knew Amy," Grace said, turning on the couch so she could look straight at the police officer.

Boyd, having no reason to dispute the profiler's thinking, swore. "Is Tina in danger?"

"I don't know. Let me run the rest of my theory by you first, see what you think. It's always nice to have a second opinion, even if it is only yours," she said, smiling.

"I think I don't like you any more."

Grace patted his arm. "Good. Now I don't think Garry knew about the DNA. He was genuinely surprised by that, but he quickly fabricated a story to fit the facts. He knew that the only evidence we have is the DNA, and if he volunteers his, combined with some cock and bull story about what happened, you can't arrest him."

"How intelligent is he, Grace?" Boyd asked seriously.

"Very. I think there's a good chance you'll never be able to put him behind bars," Grace replied. "But we can try."

"Go on."

Grace gripped her cup with both hands. "When Garry was telling us his version of events, he never hesitated, not properly. There were calculated pauses, but nothing real. But what really struck me as odd was his comment on self-harm."

"When he said that he thought Amy had got the idea from a self-harm manual than a spiritual ritual," Boyd stated. "Why is that odd?"

"Most people don't understand self-harmers, Boyd. The comment about there being a self-harm manual was a dig at something," Grace replied. "I think that Amy was actually a self-harmer and that Garry used that weakness to prey on her."

"You're saying he was laughing at her," Boyd said, his statement something of a rhetorical question.

Grace nodded. "I think so. Self-harmers also tend to cut themselves where no one can see. It's not a cry for attention, like many people think; it's a way of release for the person."

"So you're saying that for some reason, Garry convinced Amy to carry on self-harming," Boyd said thoughtfully. "She cut her thigh, like she'd possibly done before, but then what happened?"

"Now no shouting over what I'm about to tell you, but Eve has been busy all week too, trying to get everything she can from Amy's body. There was one thing in particular I was interested in, and I asked Eve to phone me the moment she found out, if she could find out."

Boyd regarded Grace carefully. "How long have you known this thing?"

"How do you know Eve found it?"

"I know you, Grace."

She smiled. "Eve phoned me about an hour ago, and what she told me fits my theory."

"I am all ears, Dr. Foley."

"You'd look funny if you were."

"Grace," Boyd whined.

"If I had a pound for every time you did that…."

"I know, you'd be able to retire to the south of France," Boyd said, smiling. "So, what is your theory?"

"I believe Garry and Amy *were* looking at spiritual rituals and witchcraft, but I think he was more interested than she was. I think Amy spent time with Garry because he fed her lies," Grace explained. "Probably told her that he understood her, and that he could help."

"Why do I get the feeling I'm going to want to nail the bastard?"

"Because you are."

"Am I going to get to, Grace?"

She sighed. "I don't know, Boyd. I can only tell you what I *think* happened."

"Your guesses are usually spot on, Dr. Foley, so what you think happened is good enough for me," Boyd told her, smiling slightly.

Grace gave him a somewhat shy smile in return. "Thank you, Superintendent, but my thinking won't put him behind bars." She took a sip of coffee. "Okay, Amy was a virgin."

Boyd whistled. "So Hodges lied when he said they were in a relationship."

"Or he was telling the truth and it wasn't sexual yet."

"But he said that Amy's parents wouldn't have approved of them being together."

Grace nodded. "I know, Boyd, and I happen to agree with you, but it's all speculation."

"I'm disliking this man less and less," he muttered.

"I'm not so keen on him either. Now, here is what I think happened," Grace said, getting comfortable. "Garry finds this ritual that will give him some sort of power, perhaps make him stronger, invincible. His psychological profile suggests he craves control, a way to fuel his narcissism. There are plenty of nonsensical books out there that would encourage his egotistical streak, or he could have got this 'ritual' off the internet, for all we know."

"What was involved in it, Grace?" Boyd asked softly.

"While Eve was testing to see if Amy was still a virgin or not, she noticed some strange markings around the groin area, right at the junction where the upper thigh meets the hip. She said it was too badly charred to be certain, but she *thinks* that is the injury that caused Amy's death."

"Again, Eve's guesses are good enough for me. So, Grace, are you going to finish giving me the full sickening picture?"

Grace nodded. "For some reason, Amy wants to self-harm again and Garry doesn't stop her. Now Garry told us that Amy cut too deep, but where the mark was, even if she *had* gone too deep, it wouldn't have killed her. I think she passed out, for whatever reason, and that's when Garry, using a different knife, perhaps one with a serrated edge, cut through Amy's femoral artery. I then think he showered in her blood."

"Because she was a virgin, he thought that would make him stronger," Boyd said, his voice flat.

Grace nodded again. "I think so." She saw Boyd's body tense and she put her hand on his forearm. "But it's only a hypothesis, Peter. We have no way of proving it. The only way we could is if we find the knife Garry used on Amy."

Boyd noted the physical contact and the use of his first name, and he allowed it to calm his anger, albeit briefly. "You think he might have kept it as a trophy?"

"We can hope."

"You were right earlier; Tina could be in danger." Boyd stood. "How can I get a warrant to search Garry's house, Grace?"

She laughed and stood with him. "I don't know, Boyd. Try your usual charm."

He stared at her in surprise. "You're suggesting I just barge into his house and lie when asked why I did it?"

Grace looked at him innocently. "I'm not suggesting anything. But I will say this, Boyd - be careful. Garry Hodges is not a reasonable man. He thinks he is superior to everyone else, that he is meant for greater things."

"Thanks, Grace, I'll keep that in mind. Spence, Stella! Get your gear; we're going visiting!"

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Boyd was pissed off. Everything that could go wrong was doing, and this case was taking more time to complete than it would for England to win the World Cup. Of course, it was an impossible case to solve to start with, and they had got further than the original team, but Boyd wanted a result. He wanted to catch the person responsible. He wasn't having much luck.

"Hi, Grace, it's me."

*"Problem?"* Grace asked.

Boyd nodded and realised he was on the phone, so he said, "Yeah."

Grace was sitting in her office, alone except for Eve in the lab, and she smiled. *"Care to elaborate?"*

Boyd sighed. "Garry Hodges isn't at home, and according to his neighbours, they've hardly seen him this week, which isn't normal. We've also conducted a search of his house. No knife."

*"Shit,"* Grace muttered.

"That's what I thought." Boyd started pacing. "Where would he go, Grace? Where would the knife be?"

The line was silent as the profiler thought. *"Did you send anyone round to Tina's?"*

"A couple of PCs. Do you think that's where he is?"

Grace's other phone rang. *"Boyd, I'll call you back. Don't go anywhere!"* She put her mobile down and picked up the receiver. "Hello?"

*"Dr. Foley, how wonderful to hear your voice. I assume you have everything worked out now. After all, I think I've given you enough time and you're an intelligent woman."*

"A compliment, Garry? I'm surprised," Grace replied.

Garry laughed. *"It doesn't matter what I say; you'll never arrest me and you know it."*

"Don't harm Tina, Garry."

He laughed again. *"Just because I think you're intelligent doesn't mean you can tell me what to do, Grace. Now listen closely. The answers you seek are at Tina's house. I suggest you get there quickly, and maybe take that policeman with you, for…protection."*

The line went dead, and all Grace could do was sit there numbly, holding the phone loosely by one hand. Her mobile ringing made her jump violently.

"Hello?" she said, her voice trembling slightly.

*"Are you okay, Grace?"* Boyd asked in concern.

"Boyd, pick me up now! We need to get to Tina Black's house."

*"Is she in danger?"*

"I don't know!" Grace replied loudly. "Leave Spence and Stella there, just in case Garry goes back." She stopped suddenly. "I'm not telling you what to do…."

Boyd could tell by her tone of voice that she was rattled. *"I know, Grace, I know. It's okay. I'll pick you up in the car park in ten minutes, okay?"*

"Okay."

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"If anything's happened to Tina, I'll never forgive myself," Grace said as Boyd sped to Tina's house.

"We don't even know if Hodges has her or not, Grace," Boyd replied gently. "Don't blame yourself for something that hasn't…." He trailed off as he screeched to a halt outside their destination. "Shit!"

The driver's door was open and Boyd was running down the path before Grace had registered what was happening. "Boyd, be careful!" she yelled, starting to follow him.

"Grace, stay in the car," he ordered, his eyes still on the two dead bodies of the PCs before him. "Call SO19, make sure they've got a team on stand by. Check with Spence that Hodges hasn't gone home and then get them to come here. Get them to pick up Eve on the way, and phone for an ambulance!"

Grace did as she was asked, frowning slightly at his tone, even though she knew he was protecting her. He emerged from the house a few moments later wearing a grim expression and carrying a bottle of wine.

When he reached the car, he wordlessly handed Grace a note. "Left, right, straight over the roundabout, second left, third left, first right. Catch me if you can," she read.

Boyd paced in frustration as they waited for the ambulance and the rest of the team to arrive. As soon as Spence pulled up, Boyd went over to him. "Hodges has Tina, but he's left us a note where to find her. SO19 have a team on stand by for us. I want you three to process this scene," he said.

Stella looked at the path. "What happened?" she asked in a hushed voice.

"I'm guessing Hodges was here, and that the knife he used to kill those two officers is the one he used to kill Amy," Boyd replied. "I'll let you know as soon as we have anything, but I don't want you to leave here until you've got every last drop of blood from the damn pavement!" He climbed into the car, started the engine and pulled away from the curb quickly. "Alright, Grace, direct me."

Ten minutes later, they arrived at the gates of a small, old industrial park. The buildings looked like they would crumble with one strong gust of wind, and Boyd was not happy about the location.

"He's here," Grace stated.

Boyd looked at her. "How the hell you know that? You're not Mystic bloody Meg."

Grace rolled her eyes. "There's a silver Mercedes parked over there. Didn't Stella say Garry owned one?"

"I think you should be the detective," he grumbled, pulling his mobile out, making one call to SO19 and the other to Spencer.

The SO19 unit made record time arriving, but Boyd still thought they had taken too long. He was curt with his orders, but the officers didn't seem to notice. They nodded in agreement and headed off in different directions.

Boyd resumed his pacing, a radio gripped tightly in his hand. Grace sat in the car, staring out of the window. "Will you keep still?" she exclaimed after a while. "You're wearing a groove in the tarmac."

The policeman never got a chance to reply. He heard screaming and instinctively started to head in that direction. He was about ten feet away when a voice came over the radio.

"Sir, we have the hostage. She's safe, but the man escaped. We're looking for him now. Please get yourselves out of the area. He is armed with a knife and dangerous."

"Right." Boyd turned to see the profiler getting out to see what was going on. "Grace, stay in the car!" he yelled, pointing at the vehicle with her inside it. "We don't know where Hodges is!"

"I'm not a child, Boyd, I can take care of myself!" Grace snapped back.

"Oh, Grace, please, not now! We've got a sadistic killer on the loose; can we argue about this back at the office?"

"Alright," Grace replied, and opened the car door, putting one leg out.

"Grace, get back in the car!" Boyd shouted loudly, his concern for her coming out as anger.

His attention was drawn away by the sounds of gunshots from the other direction, and over his radio he could hear frantic snippets of conversation from SO19. Suddenly there were three shots so close to him, he thought his heart had stopped.

Boyd spun round and saw two SO19 officers pointing their guns at a person lying on the floor.

"Cover me while I identify him," Boyd told them, and approached the body cautiously. When he was close enough, he could see it was Garry Hodges, and he was well and truly dead. Boyd looked up. "Alright, you can stan-" His sentence was never finished as his eyes saw another form lay still on the ground. "GRACE!"

He rushed to Grace's side, noting how far she was from the car. Her head lay in a pool of blood and Boyd could feel himself starting to panic. Not Grace, he kept repeating silently to himself. Not Grace.

"Oh God, Grace, can you hear me?" He turned to the SO19 officers. "Get an ambulance here, NOW!"

They nodded and radioed it in, and one approached to see if he could help. "I know you're upset, sir, but you shouldn't move her."

Boyd just nodded and grabbed Grace's hand. "Grace, can you hear me? Hold on, okay? Help's on the way. Just hold on for me."

He heard the screeching of tyres and barely acknowledged who it was until he heard Spencer exclaim, "Fuck! What happened?"

The team surrounded Boyd, supporting him without touching him and without words, and the SO19 officer made a discreet exit. "Bastard Hodges must have attacked her," Boyd said quietly.

"Where is he?" Spencer asked, his tone ominous.

"Dead."

"Pity," Stella replied.

"Looks like a head wound," Eve noted sombrely.

"Is Tina safe?" Spencer asked, trying to stop Boyd from worrying, if only for a moment.

The DSI nodded. "SO19 just found her," he replied, his tone distant.

When the ambulance arrived, Boyd climbed into the back with Grace and the paramedics. There was no question about who would go to the hospital with Grace; Boyd didn't look like he was ready to let her out of his sight any time soon.

"Call if there's any news, yeah?" Spencer said. "We'll start the paperwork."

Boyd nodded, but couldn't bring himself to reply at all. The doors shut and the ambulance set off, leaving three devastated people in its wake. For the team, the drive back to an empty office never seemed so short.

For Boyd, the drive to the hospital had never seemed so bloody long.

TBC


	5. The Aftermath

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*May, 2009*

Boyd sat in the relative's room with his head in his hands, silently praying to any Gods that were listening that Grace would be okay. It had been hard enough losing Mel, and almost losing Spencer; he couldn't lose Grace as well. The others had wanted to stay, but someone had to do the paperwork and finishing up on the case, and Boyd was in no fit state to work. He promised to keep the team up-to-date on Grace's condition, while making a vow to himself not to sleep until he knew she was okay.

Sensing Boyd might do something stupid, or gallant, like that, Eve dropped by with a care package; a flask of Stella's strong coffee and some decent sandwiches from the delicatessen down the street from the Metropolitan Police building.

"Don't worry, you don't have to eat them now," she told Boyd as she handed him the bag. "But the coffee will go cold. And Stella told me to tell you to drink it. She said it will help you stay awake."

Boyd managed a weak smile. "Thanks."

"Any news?"

He shook his head. "Not yet."

Eve smiled and touched his arm briefly. "I'd better go. Reports to write."

"I'll call if there's any news," Boyd told her. Eve nodded and left, and the policeman picked half-heartedly at a sandwich.

After a while - he had no idea how long - the doctor told him he could see Grace, though she wasn't awake yet. It was only when she woke up that they'd be able to assess the full damage.

Boyd entered the room and almost started crying at the sight before him. Grace looked so fragile, so delicate…so old. She wasn't old, he knew that, but she certainly looked it. He sat down next to the bed and took her hand.

"I'm sorry, Grace," Boyd whispered. "I'm sorry I yelled and I'm sorry I couldn't protect you. Promise me you're going to be alright. You have to be."

He let go of her hand, sat back in the chair, and just stared at her face. Not long after that, Grace began to move and stir. Boyd debated about getting a doctor or a nurse, but he wanted to be there when she woke up.

"Boyd?" Grace said, her voice croaky.

"Hi, Grace," he replied softly. He was proud of himself that he sounded steady because in all honestly, he was shaking so much he thought he was going to fall apart. He was shaking because Grace was awake and seemed okay, but also because his name was the first thing she said.

"You look awful. I think you should be in this bed instead of me."

Boyd pulled a face. "Thanks, Grace. I can always count on you to make me feel better."

"You could always get *in* the bed with me."

"Grace!"

She laughed and patted his hand lightly. "Thank you."

"For what?" Boyd asked, looking very confused.

"For making me laugh."

He smiled. "You're welcome."

"So why am I in here and how long do I have to stay?" Grace asked after a beat.

"You suffered a blow to the head, and the doctor wants to keep you in for a few days to check there's no other damage," Boyd replied.

"Like concussion or amnesia."

Boyd nodded. "You were lucky, Grace."

She smiled wryly at him. "I don't feel lucky." She suddenly touched her face and hair. "God, I must look a mess."

"You look beautiful," Boyd said softly, smiling to let Grace know his words were heartfelt.

"Are you feeling alright, Boyd?" Grace asked.

He nodded and tried to speak but his throat suddenly constricted as the tears began to well in his eyes. "Don't ever to anything like that again, Grace," he told her as firmly as he could manage.

Grace covered his hand with one of hers, and he grasped at it as though he was convincing himself that she was still alive. "I'm sorry, Boyd, I should have listened to you. And I'll try not to scare you like that again, okay?" She caressed the back of his hand with her thumb. "But I'm not going anywhere, so there's no need to worry. Okay?"

"I'll be happy when you're back at work, Grace," Boyd told her, wiping the tears from his face roughly. "Then I'll know you're alright."

"So that'll be in a couple of weeks then."

"That long?"

"I'm taking a holiday while I can."

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but I need to see my patient," the doctor said, appearing from seemingly nowhere. He glanced down at Boyd and frowned. "And you need to go home. Get some sleep. I don't want to see you until tomorrow, understood?"

Grace looked at the policeman. "Have you been here all night, Boyd?"

He nodded a little sheepishly. "Since you were brought in yesterday."

"Oh, Boyd." Instead of exasperation, it was said affectionately, which warmed Boyd's heart in a way he thought would never be possible again.

"Dr. Foley will still be here tomorrow," the doctor told Boyd. "You can see her then."

"I think you'd better go before he has security throw you out, or arrest you," Grace said in a stage whisper.

Boyd smiled, squeezed her hand, and stood reluctantly. "I'll be back tomorrow."

"Sleep well, Boyd."

"You too."

WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD

Boyd slept for the rest of the day and well into the evening, getting up around midnight only to use the bathroom and grab a snack. He finally rose properly at seven in the morning the next day, feeling refreshed and in desperate need of a shower.

An hour later, Boyd was cleanly shaven, dressed in fresh clothes, and fed. He headed into the office briefly first to give the team an update, but found only Eve there.

"Early start?" he asked.

"As always. How's Grace?" the scientist replied.

"She seems okay. They'll let her out today or tomorrow if everything's… okay."

Eve glanced at him. "Concussion, amnesia and unknown internal bleeding?"

"Grace forgot to mention the last one," Boyd said, pulling a face. "ABC, eh?"

"I could add more if you like. Give you a full alphabet."

"Thanks, but I'll pass. See you later."

"Bye, Boyd. Say hi to Grace for me!" Eve saw him wave as he headed down the corridor. She assumed that meant he would pass the message on.

WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD

Boyd arrived at the hospital just as visiting hours were starting. He headed to Grace's bed and smiled when he noticed she was still asleep. He studied her for a while before picking up one of her crappy magazines to read, although the experience was more painful than was worth it.

"Good morning," the doctor said softly as he appeared at Boyd's side.

"Morning. How is she?"

"Well, after you left yesterday we ran some tests. Grace doesn't appear to have any internal bleeding, and we can rule out damage to the long-term memory. We asked a series of questions and she answered them all correctly."

Boyd didn't realise he'd been holding his breath and as he let it out, small explosions of colour erupted in his field of vision. "Concussion?"

"It's possible, but nothing to worry about," the doctor replied.

"Thank you," Boyd said.

The doctor nodded. "When she wakes up, don't stay too long. She needs to rest as much as she can. She isn't young any more; it will take longer for her to recover."

"Don't let her hear you say that," Boyd told him.

The doctor smiled. "I wasn't intending on doing," he said as he walked away.

Boyd had just picked the magazine up again when he heard Grace stirring, so he put it down and watched her wake up. "Good afternoon," he greeted her with a smile.

But the smile soon faded at Grace's panic-stricken expression. "Where am I?"

"In hospital."

"Why? What happened, Boyd?"

Boyd reached forward and took Grace's hand. "It's okay. Calm down." He waited until she appeared less panicked, and while she was doing as he suggested, his thoughts were whirling.

"What happened?" Grace repeated.

Boyd ignored her. "Grace, what's the last thing you remember?"

She frowned. "You shouting at me, telling me to stay in the car."

"Do you remember what happened yesterday?" Boyd asked.

Grace looked at him as though he had grown an extra head. "That *was* yesterday, Boyd."

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Boyd sat with his head in his hands again, listening to the doctor as he delivered the bad news. "It is amnesia, but it's Grace's short term memory that has been affected."

"Will she ever recover?" Boyd asked, his voice muffled.

The doctor hesitated. "Highly doubtful. Only on rare occasions has the patient regained their full mental capabilities."

"So Grace won't remember anything after the incident?"

The doctor shook his head, and then realised Boyd couldn't see him. "No, she won't."

Boyd was silent for such a long time that the doctor started to worry about him. "That's just fantastic," he muttered.

"I know it's difficult to understand what's happened, but…." the doctor started to say.

"No, you don't understand, *Doctor*," Boyd replied, finally looking up. "That last thing Grace will remember is me shouting at her!" Unable to control himself any longer, he put his head back in his hands and started to cry.

TBC


	6. The Rock

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*May, 2009*

Boyd sat in Grace's office, the blinds down and the door open. It was quiet, too early for anyone else to be in, and he was attempting to let the silence sooth him. It wasn't working. All that pounded in his head was the feeling of guilt that he couldn't save yet another member of his team. Sometimes he wondered why the hell he did his job, especially now Luke was dead. And as for Grace….

"Boyd?"

He looked up at the gentle voice that had said his name. "Eve," he replied, his voice hoarse.

"What's happened?" she asked, not venturing into the office. She seemed to know that the space was special to him.

"It's…it's Grace. It's difficult," Boyd said brokenly, his voice cracking under the weight of his emotions. "I'd rather wait until the others arrive."

Eve turned her head slightly, looking back out in to the corridor. "You won't have to wait long."

"Morning," Boyd heard Spencer say, and he watched as Eve inclined her head at Grace's office. The DI and Stella's heads both appeared. "Sir?"

"Stella, make some coffee. Please. Then I want you all to come in here."

Five minutes later, the four of them were seated in Grace's office. "Has something happened?" Stella asked.

"Not exactly," Boyd replied. "I went back to the hospital yesterday, and the doctor told me that Grace has no internal bleeding or long term amnesia. Perhaps some concussion, but nothing to worry about."

Eve and Stella looked relieved. "Thank God for that," the scientist said after sighing.

But Spencer was frowning. "You said 'long term amnesia'."

"So?" Boyd replied, but his expression was guarded.

"Most people don't specify without a reason. They usually just say 'amnesia'."

All eyes focussed on Boyd, who chose to focus on one of Grace's ornaments instead. "Grace was asleep when I arrived. When she woke up, she didn't know why she was in hospital. She thought the accident happened two days ago, not three days ago. We won't know for definite for a while, but it looks like Grace has short term amnesia."

"Merde," Stella swore, but Spencer looked confused.

"I don't understand," he said.

Eve turned to him. "In long term amnesia, it is the person's long term memory that is affected. They can't remember their life before a certain point, but retain everything that happened afterwards. Most of the time they forget everything, including their name. This is fairly easy to live with, and in many cases, some or all of the memories come back eventually."

"Short term is bad?" Spencer asked, a growing ball of cold grief forming in the pit of his stomach.

The scientist nodded slowly, deliberately not looking at Boyd, who she knew was staring at her. "Amnesia usually occurs because of a trauma or severe injury to the brain, specifically the hippocampus. In short term amnesia, a person can remember everything up to a certain event, but nothing after that."

"So if someone is injured on their eighteenth birthday, they will forever think they are eighteen," Stella added.

"So bad is in fact an understatement," Spencer muttered. "What are the chances of Grace recovering?"

"Almost none," Eve replied quietly.

An eerie, unbelieving silence descended over the team as they absorbed what they had just been told, but it was shattered when Boyd's mobile rang.

"Hello?" he said. "Yes…. Yes…." He sighed. "I see. Thank you, Doctor…. I'll try to visit today, but I still have work to do…. Thank you. Bye."

"Bad news?" Spencer asked.

Boyd shrugged. "Grace is awake. And she still thinks that the accident was yesterday."

"So what happens now?" Stella asked.

Boyd gave a small, tired laugh and shook his head. "I have no bloody idea."

WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD

The hours passed at an agonisingly slow pace, and Boyd was having trouble concentrating enough to write his reports up about the Amy Tibban case. Every so often, Stella would bring him a fresh mug of coffee in, and leave without saying a word. Boyd lost count of how many times he looked to his right towards Grace's office. It just wasn't the same without her.

Finally he stood up, grabbed his coat and left his office. "I'll be back later," he told Spencer.

"Okay, boss," the DI replied.

Boyd drove to the hospital slowly. He had no idea what to expect, but in the back of his mind, he knew things would never change. Grace may age, but her mind would always be stuck at that particular time. The time Boyd couldn't protect her. Again.

He found his heart was starting to ache when he pulled into the hospital car park as years of guilt over everything weighed down on him. Guilt of not being able to protect his team from harm; not being able to save his son, or his marriage.

The doctor who was looking after Grace accosted Boyd before he reached the ward. "Mr Boyd, can I have a word?"

"What's happened?" the policeman asked, instantly worried.

"Nothing. Everything is still the same," the doctor replied, as though that was supposed to reassure Boyd. "Grace has been awake for some time now, but I haven't told her why she's in hospital."

"Why not? Have you said anything to her?"

"Only that she was in an accident. I thought perhaps you might want to explain the situation to her."

Boyd ran his hand through his hair. "Someone will have to do that every day, won't they."

The doctor nodded. "Yes."

"Maybe I can just make a recording," Boyd muttered grimly.

The doctor looked at his notes. "I understand that Grace has no family."

"That's right."

"And she lists her contact in case of emergency as you. Is that right?" The doctor looked up to see Boyd blinking in surprise at him.

"Is it?"

The doctor smiled. "I'm going to have Grace moved to a special ward, but it would be better for her if, in the long run, she could go home." He held his hand up. "It's a big decision to make for all involved, I know; I'm just laying the option on the table. Now, I have rounds to make. You're free to visit her, and you can stay as long as you wish."

"Thank you, Doctor," Boyd replied. He walked to the ward, but hesitated before going through the   
double doors.

Grace looked up and smiled at him. "Hello. What are you doing here?"

"Visiting you," he said.

"Ah, thank you. But no grapes? Crappy magazines?"

"They never made it out of the office, I'm afraid."

Grace smiled again. "Now why doesn't that surprise me?" Her face fell at Boyd's grave expression. "What is it? What's happened?"

"The doctor wanted me to talk to you, to tell you why you're here," he said quietly.

"Okay."

"You remember the accident, don't you?"

Grace rolled her eyes. "It was only yesterday, Boyd. I'm not likely to forget something like that in a hurry."

Boyd shook his head and leant forward. "It wasn't, Grace. It was three days ago."

She frowned. "Are you sure? I distinctly remember…."

"I'm sure," Boyd replied, cutting her off. "Grace, you suffered a blow to your head which has damaged your hippocampus. Your long term memory is intact, but your short term memory has been affected. You -" He sighed. "You won't remember anything after the accident."

"Amnesia?" Grace asked in a hushed voice.

Boyd nodded. "I'm sorry."

Grace looked stunned and then grabbed the newspaper from the table next to her bed. "Fifth of May," she whispered as she read the date, and then her hand flew to her mouth. "Boyd!"

Her cry of his name was so stricken, so full of anguish, that Boyd didn't even think about what he was doing. He got Grace to scoot over and he sat on the bed next to her. Gathering her in his arms, he said, "It will be okay, Grace. We'll get through."

And Grace clung to him like a drowning woman holding onto a rock in the middle of a turbulent ocean. Her nails dug into his chest and his bicep, through his shirt, and her fingers gripped him so hard, Boyd knew there would be bruises. But it didn't matter. Grace needed him and he was there, and he vowed silently that he always would be.

"It's okay, Grace. We'll get through this," he repeated softly into her hair. It wasn't clear whether he was trying to convince her or himself.

TBC


	7. The Decision

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June, 2009

Boyd stood outside the lab where he knew Frankie was working. He was pretty certain she didn't want to see him, but he needed to see her. Despite everything that had happened, and everyone he knew, Boyd felt more comfortable talking to Frankie.

"Dr. Wharton, please," he said to the receptionist.

She stared at him. "Do you have an appointment?"

"No, I don't, but this is urgent," Boyd replied before the receptionist could speak. "Could you tell Dr. Wharton that Boyd is here and it's about Grace."

"Alright, but I can't promise she'll be able to see you straight away."

"She will."

The receptionist left, and Boyd had barely sat down when Frankie burst through the doors, an agitated expression etched on her face. "What the hell are you doing here? And what's this about Grace? What's happened?"

The first thing Boyd noticed was how little Frankie had changed in three years, and he told her so.

"And you've aged ten years. Your point?" she retorted harshly.

Boyd winced. "Can we talk away from here?"

"I'm busy."

"That's a no?"

"That's a no. Stop wasting my time, Boyd."

He sighed. "Grace has been badly hurt."

Frankie's face turned pale. "I thought you were just using that as an excuse to see me."

Boyd glared at her. "I would never do that, you know I wouldn't."

"Yeah, I know, I just…shit. Hang on." She turned.

"I thought you said you were busy," Boyd said, his tone slightly accusatory.

"That's the great thing about research, Boyd, it isn't going anywhere!" Frankie called back to him. She reappeared a few minutes later. "Okay, we can go now."

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They found a quiet café down the road from where Frankie worked and as soon as their coffee arrived, she demanded to know what had happened. Boyd surprised them both; once he started talking, he couldn't stop. He told Frankie everything, from the case to how they ended up at the industrial park, to Grace getting hurt and then finding out about her amnesia.

"Shit, Boyd," Frankie stated, shaking her head.

"My thoughts exactly." He sipped his drink. "I didn't want to tell you about Grace over the phone, but I had another reason for wanting to see you."

Frankie rolled her eyes. "I thought you might. Go on."

"At one time or another, I've let everyone on the team down, past and present members," he said quietly. "I know I shouldn't have asked you to process the scene when Mel died, but to me it would have been disrespectful to her to get someone else in. I let her down by not being there to save her; I didn't want just anyone near her so soon after she died." He shook his silver head. "Does that make any kind of sense?"

"Surprisingly, yes," Frankie replied, her voice cracking slightly. "You know, I still miss her."

"So do I. You know Spence got shot?"

Frankie nodded. "I heard."

"I let him down too," Boyd said.

"And you think you let Grace down because she got hurt," Frankie stated. When Boyd didn't reply, she stretched across the table and covered his hand with hers. "Grace didn't listen to you; she got out of the car of her own free will. The only way you could have stopped her would have been to lock the doors, and I don't think Grace would have been very happy about that, especially if you had been the one to get hurt instead. Trust me, Grace would never have coped."

"And you think I can?" Boyd asked somewhat bitterly.

"Yes, I do," Frankie replied without hesitation.

He picked his cup up with his free hand. "That is actually what I wanted to talk to you about."

"I'm listening."

"Grace is still in the hospital at the moment, on a special ward, but she can't stay there. Every time I go to see her, I see the frustration in her eyes," Boyd said. "She can't understand why she's still there when she feels perfectly fine. Every time I have to explain about the amnesia." He sighed and ran his hand through his hair. "The doctor has suggested Grace would be better off at home, and I want to take her away from there, Frankie. Can I do that?"

Frankie leant back and studied him. "You want to take care of her yourself," she stated.

Boyd nodded. "I'm thinking about it."

She leant forward again. "Boyd, that's a huge commitment."

"I know."

"Do you? Look, Grace will need twenty four hour care, someone with her all the time. You need to think about where she's going to stay, and how to help her cope with what's going on."

"I know all that, Frankie!" Boyd exclaimed loudly, drawing several glances from other customers.

"I don't think you do, Boyd," Frankie replied. "It will mean giving up your job and spending the rest of your life with a woman who won't remember any of it. You could end up resenting her."

Boyd shook his head. "I could never hate Grace."

"You might. You're not the most patient man in the world."

"I know, but I -" He stopped suddenly.

Frankie frowned. "You what?"

"I'm the only one who can, Frankie," he said, his head down and his voice laced with a quiet sincerity. The scientist wasn't convinced that was what he was going to say, but she didn't press the matter. "I'm the only one who can take care of Grace long term. I'm the only one whose presence she won't question too much."

"Loving her might not be enough to get you through this, Boyd," Frankie told him gently, having guessed what he stopped himself from saying before.

Boyd looked up. "That's why I need your help. And Spence's and Stella's and Eve's."

Frankie smiled. "We'll all be there."

"Do you think I can do it?" he asked, his tone almost childlike.

"You're the most stubborn, pig-headed man I've ever had the misfortune of meeting, Boyd," she replied with a smile. "Who also happens to care greatly about those he loves."

"You sound like Grace."

"I know."

"The answer?"

"Is it important to you?"

"Yes."

"Then yes, I think you can do it."

Boyd smiled. "Thanks, Frankie."

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After leaving Frankie, Boyd was unsure whether to go to the hospital first or back to the office. He decided on the latter, but before entering the bullpen, he paused, steeling himself for what was to come.

"Morning, boss," Spencer greeted him.

"How's Grace?" Stella added.

"The same," Boyd replied. "Can one of you get Eve? We need to talk."

Stella jumped to her feet. "Okay."

"How's Frankie?" Spencer asked calmly.

Boyd stared at him. "How the hell…?"

The DI shrugged. "I'm a policeman, remember? It's my job to know these things."

"She's fine. She's…on hand to help."

Spencer frowned. "What?"

Before Boyd could reply, Stella reappeared with Eve. "What's going on?" the scientist asked.

"Take a seat. Okay, as you know, Grace's condition is incurable," Boyd started. "The doctors have run all the tests they can, and the answers are all the same. They will let Grace come home - in fact, they insist it's better for her and I happen to agree - but she needs twenty four hour care." He spoke the last words slowly, letting them sink in before continuing. "I have decided, with the help of a certain other scientist, to take care of Grace myself. And before you all start objecting, I know it isn't going to be easy. That's…that's why I'm going to need your help." Again, his last words were spoken slowly and with emphasis. Silence descended over the bullpen as no one on the team wanted to be the first to speak.

Finally Spencer looked at Stella and Eve, and then back at Boyd. "Will you be retiring?" he asked.

"I think I'll have to," Boyd replied quietly.

"Does Grace know about this?"

Boyd shook his head. "I wanted to tell you first," he said, gesturing to the team. "Make no mistake, I *will* do this, but it will be a lot easier with you all behind me."

Spencer stood up and went over to Boyd. "We're behind you, boss," he told him firmly. "For Grace, and for you, we'll be there."

"Thanks, Spence," Boyd murmured, his voice cracking slightly. He put his hand on the younger man's shoulder, and the DI returned the gesture. "I'll need help selling my place as well; I'll be moving into Grace's with her as she'll be more comfortable there."

"I don't want to put a dampener on your noble idea," Eve said.

Boyd looked at her. "But?"

"But hadn't you better ask Grace before you start making plans?"

"Grace will change her mind from one day to the next," Stella replied, then shrugged when everyone looked at her. "What? I've been reading up on short term amnesia. If Boyd can get Grace into her own home, surrounded by her own things, she will feel more comfortable. And Boyd also said that Grace can't understand why she's in hospital if there's nothing wrong with her. That's today. If tomorrow she feels ill, she'll think that's the reason she's there. She doesn't remember *anything* from after the time of the accident, and that's what we have to remember."

"If that's what passes as your vote of confidence, Stella, thank you," Boyd remarked, making the DC blush. "But Eve's right, I should ask Grace first."

"Do you want one of us to come with you?" Spencer asked.

Boyd shook his head. "I'll call if I need back up."

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Grace was sat reading a magazine when Boyd arrived. "Morning. Or is it afternoon already?"

"It's still morning. How are you today?" he replied carefully.

"Boyd, I'm not going to break," she snapped, but her face softened instantly when she saw the hurt flash across the policeman's face. "I'm sorry." She reached for his hand.

He took it and squeezed. "It's okay, Grace." That seemed to be his mantra when visiting her.

"No, it's not. The doctor has already explained what's wrong with me and why I'm here." That surprised Boyd. Usually the doctor left that unpleasant task for him to do. "If I only get to live one day at a time, I don't want to spend this day fighting with you," Grace said softly before smiling. "Maybe we can fight tomorrow."

"If that's what you want," Boyd replied, his voice cracking slightly.

"What I want is to get out of here. It's driving me crazy."

"That's actually what I wanted to talk to you about. The doctor said you can go home, as long as there's someone to look after you."

"Will you still come here to visit me?" Grace asked bitterly.

Boyd frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I won't be leaving any time soon, will I? It's not like I've got a family to look after me." Grace turned away.

Boyd leant forward and used his free hand to turn her face back to him. "That's where you are wrong, Dr. Foley. We might not be related, but the kids and I have come to a decision. Well, I came to a decision." He took a deep breath. "I'm going to look after you, and the rest of the team will help. Even Frankie."

"You talked to Frankie?" Grace asked, surprised.

He nodded. "I had to."

"But, Boyd, you can't look after me."

"Why not?"

Grace looked at him with raised eyebrows. "What about your job, your life?"

Boyd smiled slightly at her. "What life? My job is my life, but I can change. You can be my life," he finished quietly.

Grace was speechless. When she finally found her voice, she said, "I can't let you do that."

"Look, Grace, you just said yourself you're going crazy in here," Boyd replied, his voice rising again. "You'll be more comfortable in your own home, surrounded by your own things, but someone needs to look after you. Out of all the people you know, whose presence would you accept easily?"

"Yours," she said after a beat, and smiled. "My house?"

He shrugged. "Makes sense."

"And the kids will help?"

"Absolutely." Boyd looked at her, his gaze intense. "What do you think, Grace? Don't take too long deciding; I might come to my senses and change my mind."

The answering broad smile she gave him lit up her whole face, making her look years younger, and it made Boyd's heart give an odd flutter. "Take me home, Peter," Grace replied softly.

TBC


	8. The Hard Place

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*July, 2009*

The idea had been simple enough, but Boyd should have known that in practice, it would never work. It wasn't that he didn't *want* to look after Grace, he told himself, it was just that things kept getting in the way.

Two days after he took Grace home from the hospital, the commissioner called him with an urgent case. Boyd had said no, but Grace told him he should work on it. He could tell with her tone of voice and her expression that she was only saying what he wanted to hear, that she didn't want him to do it, but Boyd felt the lure of work was too strong and he agreed.

He didn't see Grace for a week. His house remained off the market, his belongings stayed there, and when Boyd went to visit Grace, he was ready for the cold shoulder or the silent treatment. Instead she welcomed him with open arms, and for the entire time he was there, all Boyd could think about was how easy it would be to take advantage of Grace's condition. He could say anything to her, tell her all the truths he'd kept hidden, and she wouldn't remember it the next day. He didn't have to watch his temper when he was around her, because she couldn't recall anything.

When he got back to the office, Boyd opened a bottle of scotch and drank himself into a stupor. He hated himself for thinking that way, for being weak. He had wanted so much to look after Grace, to care for her because there was no one else, but it seemed Frankie was right. Loving her wasn't enough.

The days that Boyd didn't go to see Grace turned into weeks, and the longer he didn't see her, the more he drank.

"What are we going to do with him?" Eve asked quietly one morning as they gathered in Boyd's doorway, watching as their boss snored loudly, the bottle of scotch empty on the floor next to the couch.

"Leave him," Spencer said with a shrug, his expression one of utter distaste.

"We could throw water over him," Stella suggested.

Eve frowned at both of them. "We need to help him."

"Why? He did this to himself. Grace needs us more than Boyd does right now," Spencer replied.

"You're wrong, Spence," Eve told him firmly. "This is harder on Boyd than it is on Grace. He remembers, she doesn't. He said he wanted to look after her and I believe him. We just need to make it possible."

"How?" Stella asked.

Eve motioned and they followed her to the coffee machine. "I've been talking to people who have dealt with short term amnesia before. The first thing we need to do is rearrange Grace's house slightly. We need to put photos up of us three, and of Boyd, and change them every year, or after a special event, so Grace knows how much time has passed. We need to get her to keep a diary of what happened the day before, and maybe even make a video to help her remember more quickly. The sooner Grace realises her condition is permanent, the better." Eve grimaced and shrugged. "You know what I mean."

"What about him?" Spencer asked, pointing towards Boyd's office.

"When Grace sees Boyd hasn't visited for a while, she'll want to know why. We'll tell her. Alright, I'll tell her," Eve said as the other two glared at her. "She'll write it in her diary and when the time's right…."

"She'll give Boyd an earful," Stella finished.

Eve nodded. "Something like that."

"And in the meantime, what do we do about Boyd?" Spencer asked, his attitude towards his boss having softened already.

"Try to make him see that there is hope. This is the hardest place for both of them right now, but like I said before, Boyd will remember everything, which makes it tougher for him. But we need to help him before he goes into total meltdown," Eve said.

Spencer suddenly stood up straight. "Stella, have you still got copies of photos from last Christmas' party?"

"I think so. Why?"

"I'm pretty sure there was one of Boyd and Grace together. Maybe we can put one in Boyd's office, his home, and one in Grace's house. Create some sort of continuity," Spencer suggested.

Eve smiled. "Good thinking, Spence."

"We should start this as soon as we can," Stella said, looking up from her computer.

Spencer glanced at Boyd's office, the sounds of snoring still emanating from within. "I'll go to Grace's now, and Boyd's. Can you run some copies of the Christmas party off for me, Stella?"

"I'm on it."

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Boyd woke up with a throbbing headache, and after stumbling to his desk, he automatically reached for the drawer where he kept the aspirin. They weren't there.

"Stella!" he yelled, then wished he hadn't as he winced in pain.

Stella appeared in his doorway looking far too innocent for Boyd's liking. "Yes, sir?"

"Find me some aspirin, will you?"

"Sorry, we haven't got any," she replied.

Boyd glared at her, though he knew his eyes were slightly crossed. "What?"

"No aspirin in the office, sir," Stella clarified brightly. "Sorry."

"Well go out and buy some then."

"Can't. I have paperwork to do, more since Spence isn't here. I can make some coffee if you like, sir."

"Stella."

"Yes, sir?"

"Get out." The door shut and Boyd put his pounding head in his hands, groaning quietly. He quickly decided that his head didn't like being in a downward position, so he lifted it again. "STELLA!" he roared suddenly, his hangover completely forgotten.

The door opened, but it was Eve, and she didn't look impressed. "Stella's busy."

"What the hell is this?" Boyd demanded to know, holding the photo frame up with one hand and pointing to it with the other.

Eve just folded her arms. "It seems to be a picture of you and Grace together."

"I know what it is, I want to know what the hell it's doing on my damn desk!"

Eve took a deep breath. "It's a reminder, Boyd, that Grace isn't dead and neither are you. No one ever said this was going to be easy. You *knew* it wouldn't be easy, yet at the first hurdle, you go and hide in a bottle."

"Get out."

"No. You need to hear this and if you want to fire me afterwards, fine." Eve stepped inside and closed the door. "You can blame work all you want. Hell, blame the bloody moon if it makes you feel better, but, Boyd, Grace *needs* you. And you need Grace. You have to pull yourself together for her sake, and your own. I know you don't ask for help when you need it, but you're going to have to learn. Me, Stella, Spence…even Frankie…we're all here for you, you know that. You just have to find a way to let us know you're not coping without actually saying 'help me'." Eve sighed and started pacing. "You made a decision, Boyd; that was the easy part. If you meant it, now you have to follow through on it." She fixed him with sincere eyes. "You were right; you *are* the only one who can look after Grace." She shrugged. "That's it, I'm done now."

"Get out," Boyd repeated, though his tone was a lot softer, and his voice was starting to crack. He heard the door open but it seemed like an age before it closed again. He didn't care. He was crying, again. Crying over his stupidity, his weakness, over his humanity that he'd managed to hide for so long.

When Boyd finally looked up once more, he saw a box of tissues on his desk with a post-it note stuck to it.

*Thought you might need these. Eve.*

Boyd shook his head, took one, and blew his nose. As he took another to wipe his eyes, he dialled the lab.

*"Hello?"*

"Thank you."

*"That's okay."*

"But don't speak to me like that again."

*"Understood."*

"At least not in the presence of anyone else."

*"I wouldn't."*

Boyd put the phone down, knowing no more words were necessary, at least not words he could direct to Eve. It was time to go and see Grace.

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Boyd took a deep breath before knocking on Grace's door, and he was only mildly surprised when Spencer answered.

"Shouldn't you be working?" Boyd asked, his hangover making his words sound sharper than he intended them to.

Spencer just stared back at his boss unblinkingly. "This is more important."

Boyd never realised how simple statements could be so powerful. Not able to think of a reply, he merely nodded before saying, "Can I see Grace?"

"That depends."

"On what?"

"On what you're going to say to her."

Boyd glared. "Spence, let me in."

But Spencer shook his head. "I know this is tough on you, boss, but we're going to do all we can to help Grace remember."

"I would never take advantage of her condition," Boyd replied, his gentle tone surprising them both. Spencer didn't need to voice his concern; it was obvious what he was thinking.

"Are you going to come in or stand gossiping on the doorstep all day?" Grace called from inside.

Boyd's heart gave a small flip at hearing her voice, but he stayed outside. "What were you doing here?" he asked Spencer.

"Rearranging," the DI replied. "Slightly. Like I said, we're trying to help Grace remember, so we've put photos up from last Christmas party, as well as getting her a diary to write in, and a few calendars to put about the place."

Boyd nodded slowly. "I'm a selfish bastard, aren't I?"

Spencer smiled. "Only sometimes. Seriously, boss, this is as hard on you as it is on Grace. I understand that now. But don't think it's any easier on the rest of us."

"I won't."

"You can go in now," Spencer said, standing to one side. "I've got to get back to the office anyway. Bye, Grace!"

"Bye, Spence," Grace replied, appearing in the kitchen doorway. She smiled when she saw Boyd. "Cup of tea?"

"Thanks," Boyd said, smiling back. As he entered the house, shutting the door after Spencer had gone, he realised that maybe things wouldn't be so bad after all.

TBC


	9. The Sacrifice

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*September, 2009*

Slowly, painfully, they had settled into a routine. Boyd would spend as much time with Grace as he could, and when he couldn't be there, one of the others stepped in. The only person Boyd hadn't spoken to was Felix, but he suspected that Frankie had done that for him. Unfortunately, the scientist hadn't been to visit Grace, and Boyd suspected that was largely down to him. He had treated Felix badly, and now the situation seemed to be irreversible. It was just one of those things he had to live with.

Grace seemed to be coping well with her 'problem' but Boyd put that down to the team's efforts; the diary and calendars were particularly of help. Yet he still felt more could be done, by him especially. He had made Grace a promise, though he had yet to keep it.

As Boyd walked about his kitchen that morning, he was struck how empty his house felt, despite the pictures Spencer and Stella had put up. He drank his coffee slowly, lost in thought. Frankie most definitely had been right - he hadn't been prepared to look after Grace, to make that sacrifice - but thankfully she hadn't said 'I told you so' yet.

But as Boyd put his cup in the sink, grabbed his jacket and car keys, and headed out for work, he felt something had changed in him. Now, he felt *ready*. As he drove to the office, he called the commissioner to see if he was available for a meeting sometime that day. He was, and Boyd suspected the commissioner knew what was to come. Boyd then called Grace to let her know he wouldn't be around until later in the day. She said it was okay, he asked if she wanted someone to come round and she said no. For one day, she could manage on her own. Boyd vowed silently, as he ended the call, that it would be the last time Grace was ever alone.

Boyd pulled into the car park and headed straight to see the commissioner, striding down the corridors with purpose.

"Come in," a voice called when Boyd knocked on the office door.

"Sir."

The commissioner looked up in surprise. "I didn't expect to see you quite so quickly, Peter."

"This couldn't wait, sir," Boyd replied.

The commissioner pursed his lips and nodded slowly. "No. No, I suppose it couldn't." He put his pen down, sat back in his chair and gestured the one opposite him. "Please, sit down."

"Thank you, sir," Boyd replied.

"Now I can probably guess what this is about, but why don't you tell me?"

Boyd took a deep breath. "When Grace was injured, I promised myself that I would take care of her. I've done a crap job so far and it's time to make good on that promise. You'll be receiving my resignation within the week."

The commissioner nodded. "I'm not surprised." He tilted his head to one side. "It's not the same, is it, Peter?"

Boyd knew exactly what he meant. He'd lost count of how many times he'd looked over at Grace's office, expecting, *hoping*, to see her there. And when a new psychologist had been brought in…well, she was nice enough, but she wasn't Grace. Boyd sighed. No, it wasn't the same and it never would be.

"No, sir, it isn't," he replied somewhat stiffly.

"What will you do?" the commissioner asked.

"Put my house on the market and move into Grace's house," Boyd said promptly.

"I assume you've spoken to her about this."

Boyd nodded. "It was the reason the doctors let Grace out of the hospital." He hung his head slightly. "I let her down."

The commissioner leant forward, trying hard to keep the concern from his face. This was a side of the DSI he wasn't used to dealing with. "Peter, I am certain Grace doesn't blame you for anything. As harsh as it sounds, you will always have a chance to set things right with Grace."

Boyd smiled ruefully. "It's not that easy, sir."

The commissioner smiled back. "Yes, I've heard about the diary. A good idea, I must say." He then became serious again. "I know it will not be easy for you, Peter, and I know it hasn't been easy so far, but you have people around you who will help you. And as long as I'm in office, I'll make special allowances for your team."

Boyd looked surprised. "There's no need, sir, really."

"I want to," the commissioner said quietly. "I like Grace and she deserves to be well looked after." His tone turned soft. "I know how much she means to you, and I can see it in your face how much you care for her. And despite what everyone might think of me, I don't have a heart of stone. Yes, you've been a pain in the proverbial arse, Peter, but you've also given great service to the police, as has Grace, and if we can't look after you now, when can we?"

"I don't know what to say, sir," Boyd said after a while.

"Then don't say anything. Just get out of my office and tell your team what's happening," the commissioner replied gruffly.

Boyd nodded and stood. "Yes, sir. Thank you." He turned to leave, but then turned back again. "Who will you put in charge of the team, sir?"

The commissioner looked up once more. "For the moment, no one." He sighed. "I'll be honest with you, Peter, but this goes no further than us, understood?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well, maybe not *too* much further." The commissioner leant on his desk. "I will be expected to seek a replacement, someone from elsewhere in the police force, but I want DI Jordan as the head of cold case unit. He has done an excellent job so far, and in this particular situation, I do feel that continuity is best. However, I cannot just give him the job; he has to earn it. Don't worry, the job is his; it's just for…."

"Show, sir?" Boyd asked, slightly amused.

The commissioner nodded. "Exactly. Now you may wish to comment to DI Jordan that he is doing just fine at the moment."

Boyd gave a replying nod in understanding. "Yes, sir."

"Of course, once DI Jordan has been promoted, he will need to be replaced. Unless DC Goodman wishes to be promoted. Then it will be her vacancy we need to fill." The commissioner suddenly looked stern. "This goes no further than you, Peter. Remember that."

Boyd smiled. "Yes, sir. Thank you."

The commissioner shook his head and made a shooing motion. "Don't thank me, just get out."

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Boyd pushed the doors to the bullpen open and headed straight to his office, replaying the conversation he had just had with the commissioner in his head. As Boyd had been spending so much time with Grace, Spencer had taken over most of the responsibilities of the unit while still leaving the very important stuff to the Superintendent. The commissioner said Spencer had been doing a good job. Boyd knew that his DI would be promoted to Chief Inspector, if he chose to go in for it, and given the job as head of the cold case squad, if he wanted it. Boyd suspected the answers were he would and he did.

Then there was Stella. She was still young, but not too young to be a DS, and she had matured immensely over the past year. Boyd thought she would make a good second for Spencer, as they already knew each other, and he knew she wanted the promotion.

Eve would no doubt stay on as the team's scientist as she, Stella and Spencer had become as close as Frankie, Mel and Spencer had been. Plus Eve enjoyed working the cold cases, as it gave her more time at the body farm.

Boyd contemplated how Spencer would choose the new DC, and what they would be like. He knew how he'd do it, but it wasn't his job any more. Or it wouldn't be by the end of the week. Boyd sighed. Whoever Spencer picked would be right for the job and the team, of that he was certain.

Instinctively, Boyd's gaze drifted to his right, to Grace's - no, the new psychologist's office. Her name was Tabitha Henley and she came very highly recommended. Boyd had only spoken to her briefly, curtly, but she didn't seem to bother. Being a psychologist, Tabitha understood what he was going through and Boyd had noticed she had hardly changed Grace's office at all, just replacing Grace's personal affects with her own. Boyd sighed again. He really should talk to Tabitha properly before he left, apologise for his ignorant behaviour.

Taking a sheet of paper from a drawer, Boyd set about writing his resignation letter. It was strange, but he always thought he would be doing this under duress, not willingly. Once he'd finished, he put it in an envelope, addressed it to the commissioner and pushed it to the front of his desk.

"Spence!"

"Yeah, boss?" Spencer replied as he appeared in the doorway.

"Come in for a moment and close the door," Boyd said, running his hand through his hair. "I want you to put this in the internal post for me as soon as you can."

Spencer stepped forward and took the envelope. "Okay."

"It's my resignation."

"Okay."

"Sit down, Spence."

"Thanks." Spencer regarded his boss carefully. "You've decided you want to go through with it?"

"I see you missed 'finally' out of that sentence," Boyd stated.

Spencer shrugged. "Does the commissioner know?" Boyd nodded. "Does Grace?"

"If she's read her diary, she knows we've talked about it, but I only made the decision this morning," Boyd replied.

Spencer just nodded. "We'll miss you, sir, believe it or not."

"Wait until I'm out of the building before you start celebrating." Boyd leant forward. "The commissioner told me to tell you that for the time being, you will be in charge of the unit, and he *does not* want you to do *anything* different. Understood?"

"I think so," Spencer replied, frowning. "How long will it be until a replacement for you is found?"

"As long as a piece of string, Spence," Boyd said, smiling. "As long as it takes for someone suitable to come along, or for the square-arsed suits upstairs to realise that someone suitable is already here." He suddenly looked stern. "You never heard that from me, and if you did, you'll be out on your ear. Just keep doing what you're doing."

Spencer returned the smile. "Yes, sir. Is there anything else?"

"Send Stella in on your way out. Thanks."

"Sir?"

Boyd looked up and smiled at Stella. "Sit down."

She did as she was told, and even though she had been part of the team for three years, the DC still looked slightly nervous, especially when left with Boyd alone. "Is something wrong, sir?" she asked.

"I wanted you to hear this from me first," Boyd started. "I'm leaving. I'm going to look after Grace."

Stella just nodded. "I understand, sir."

Boyd looked at her. "No, I don't think you do. There are going to be some changes when I leave, but what those changes are depend on you all as a team. Any replacement should come in at the bottom, not the top. Now do you understand, Detective Ser-Constable Goodman?"

Stella tried not to smile at Boyd's accidental-on-purpose slip of the tongue. "Yes, sir. Thank you."

"Don't thank me, Stella," Boyd told her, his tone serious. "You never heard that from me, okay? There'll be trouble all around if that happens. You and Spence both know the score, and I'll make sure Eve is informed as well. As a team, you can make this work. Alright, now get back to work and leave me alone."

Stella nodded and stood up. "What about Tabitha, sir? Will you tell her what's going on?"

"I'll leave that decision with Spence as he'll be running the unit until a replacement for me is found."

Stella nodded again and walked to the door, but stopped before she opened it. "I know you said not to, but thank you, sir, for everything. Even yelling at me. I hope I didn't disappoint you too much."

"If you ever disappointed me, Stella, it was only because I saw myself in you," Boyd said quietly, looking at her. The DC nodded one last time and left Boyd alone. He sighed and looked around his office. Now that he'd made the decision - and his resignation would probably be somewhere in the system already, knowing Spencer - he wanted to leave for the day. Thinking that the commissioner wouldn't mind, Boyd grabbed his jacket and left his office, heading for the lab.

Eve wasn't surprised to see him; she just regarded him with dark eyes as he walked up to her. "Yes?"

"I'm leaving," Boyd said.

"It's about time," Eve replied.

Boyd winced. "Ouch. I know people dislike me, but that was harsh."

Eve rolled her eyes. "Believe it or not, Boyd, we don't *want* you to go, but you made a promise, remember? I was wondering how long it would take you to fulfil it. Just take care of yourself, and definitely take care of Grace. And if you get bored, drop in a see us once in a while."

Boyd smiled. "I'd like that. Thanks, Eve." He turned to leave. "Spence might be down to see you later for some 'team talk'."

"Okay," Eve said, nodding. "Just one last thing, Boyd."

"What?"

"Please talk to Tabitha. She really is nice, and it would be good for her to know that you don't hate her."

Boyd frowned. "I don't hate her; I don't know her!"

Eve just looked at him and held her hands up. "I'm just saying."

Boyd replied by waving and pushing the doors open a little harder than was necessary.

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He could do this. He knew he could. Boyd could step back in her office, just this once. He had been in before, but only once or twice, and now someone else was working in there, it was even more difficult to step into the space that had been so uniquely Grace.

Boyd took a deep breath, aware that Spencer and Stella were deliberately keeping their heads down, and his hand hovered over the door handle. But he didn't move. All Boyd could see was Grace: Grace hunched over her desk, leaning on one hand; Grace talking to someone, leaning back on the couch, her legs crossed; Grace phoning him up for something and nothing; Grace hovering in the doorway of his office with a bottle of wine and two glasses.

"You can stay wherever you are and I'll meet you there if you like," a quiet voice said.

Boyd focussed on the figure in front of him and shook his head. "You wouldn't be able to find me."

Tabitha nodded, understanding that Boyd wasn't being nasty, just truthful. "Did you want to talk to me?"

"Yes, I did."

"Would you like me to come to your office instead?"

Boyd pulled his hand back to his side and shook his head. "No, I have to do this."

Tabitha just nodded and moved to one side. "Please, come in." Straightening his back and squaring his shoulders, Boyd walked into the office and stopped. "You can sit wherever you like," Tabitha told him.

Boyd chose the seat next to her desk, so the profiler sat behind the table. "I just wanted to apologise for my behaviour," Boyd started. "I know you understand what I'm going through, but that's still no excuse for me to be unprofessional, so I apologise. And…thank you, for understanding."

"You're welcome, Superintendent," Tabitha replied. "I knew the circumstances when I was offered the job, so I had an idea what to expect. I want to tell you how sorry I am about what happened. I never met Dr. Foley, but I know of her, of course, and I know about the work she's done in this unit. And the team have told me what kind of a person she is. This kind of injury must be as difficult on you as it is on her."

"It is," Boyd admitted. "And call me Boyd. Everyone else does."

Tabitha inclined her head. "I'll try."

"You won't have to try for long, I'll have left by the end of the week. My resignation is on its way to the commissioner now, and until a replacement is found, DI Jordan will be in charge."

"A good choice."

Boyd stood up. "Good luck, Dr. Henley."

Tabitha held her hand out and they shook. "You as well, Superintendent."

Boyd left the building without looking back. It was time to go and see Grace.

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"Boyd, what a surprise. I wasn't supposed to see you today, was I?" Grace asked, her expression going from delightful to concerned.

Boyd stared at her, worry setting in. "I called you earlier, Grace," he said, keeping his voice even.

"Did you? I forget things so easily, you know," she replied, her eyes twinkling mischievously. "Come in."

"I can't believe you just did that, Grace!" Boyd exclaimed, following her and closing the door.

"Oh, lighten up, Boyd. If I can't laugh about what's happened to me, I'd bloody well cry, and I know which I'd rather do. Now, give me your coat and go into the living room while I put the kettle on."

Boyd let Grace take his jacket and watched her walk to the kitchen, noticing she was humming to herself. He just prayed to whoever was out there and listening that her good mood wouldn't dispel when he told her the news. Even though they'd discussed it many times, Boyd was still unsure about his and Grace's relationship. Sometimes they teetered on the edge of something more, something great, yet at other times they were just friends again.

He didn't into the living room, but walked into the kitchen instead, leaning in the doorway until Grace noticed him.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"I need to tell you something, Grace, but I don't know how you're going to take it. I know we've talked about it before, but that was only talk. This is real."

Grace just nodded. "Would you get my diary, please? It's on the table in the living room."

Boyd fetched the item and then went back to the kitchen, sitting down at the table opposite Grace. He passed the book to her. "How's your day been?"

She looked at him. "Fine, thank you. I cooked all morning and then I've been reading."

"Don't look so surprised, Grace," Boyd told her.

"Hmm. Now, what did you want to tell me?"

"I've resigned."

Now Grace stared. "Why?"

Boyd sighed. "Find Saturday in your diary and look at what you wrote."

As she read, Boyd studied Grace's face. There were lines of worry and stress that weren't there before, and he knew why. For a woman like Grace, losing her short term memory was the worst sort of thing that could have happened. He remembered once when he had come round and they had stayed up late talking. Boyd was too tired, and over the drink limit, to go home, so he slept in the spare room. Grace didn't write it down, so when he walked into the kitchen the next morning, he almost gave her a heart attack.

A warm hand on his and a soft voice brought him out of his reverie. "Boyd?" Grace said, her tone concerned, and it sounded like it wasn't the first time she'd said his name.

"Sorry, I was thinking."

"I could see that. Was it serious?"

Boyd looked at her and tried to smile. "No."

"You always were a terrible liar, Boyd," Grace replied. "Right, I've read what we discussed. You want to look after me permanently. You feel like you owe me, that I need twenty four hour care, and that you're the best person to that. You also want to retire because there's nothing left there for you at work now that I'm not there and Luke is dead. Did I miss anything?"

Boyd shook his head. "No, that was it. My resignation went to the commissioner today, so over the next couple of weeks, I'll become a civilian."

"But why *now*, Boyd?" Grace asked.

"This morning, while I was getting ready for work, I realised I didn't actually want to go. I looked around my house and I didn't want to stay there. The only place that holds something for me is here, with you."

Grace's hand was still covering his and she squeezed it. "How is this going to work, then?"

"I'd like to move in here permanently. I know that's a big step, but I almost live here as it is," Boyd said.

Grace smiled. "Very true. Alright, when do you want to move your things?"

"When's best for you?"

"Let me check my diary."

"Which one?" Boyd asked, and Grace laughed, knowing her little attempt at humour had backfired.

"Whenever is best for you, Boyd. I'm not going anywhere or doing anything."

It was Boyd's turn to squeeze Grace's hand. "That's another reason I want to move in. We can go places, see and do things that you might not want to do alone."

"Thank you."

"Don't thank me just yet; you've never lived with me," Boyd warned her.

Grace inclined her head. "No, but I've worked with you. Is it similar to that?"

Boyd pretended to think about it. "Probably," he replied with a smile.

"Then we'll be fine. Now, do you want the spare room?"

He looked surprised. "Is there an option?"

Grace actually blushed. "Well, I was reading my diary before you arrived, and it seems that we've been getting on very well for a while now, and I just thought that…well…maybe…."

Boyd covered her hand with both of his. "I don't know how I feel about you, Grace." He stopped. "No, that's not exactly true. I do know, I realised when you were injured, and I think I felt that way before, I just wouldn't admit it."

"Boyd, that makes no sense whatsoever."

"It does to me."

"Well, would you explain it to me?" Grace asked.

Boyd took a breath. "I'll move into the spare room and let's see how it goes from there," he suggested. "We're both going to have a lot to get used to."

Grace smiled. "Okay. Did I say thank you?"

Boyd smiled back. "Yes, but you don't have to. You'll never have to, Grace," he said quietly.

"I'll try to remember that. Now, are you hungry?"

"Yes."

"Good. Want to help me cook something? I'll forget where the ingredients are otherwise."

TBC


	10. The High

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*December, 2009*

Boyd was walking around the shopping centre attempting desperately to put a scowl on his face, but no matter how he tried, he just couldn't get the expression to stay there for too long. He had been retired and living permanently with Grace for three months, and he didn't think his life could get any better, despite her 'disability'.

So much had happened that Boyd found he was actually enjoying Christmas shopping as it gave him time alone to reflect on everything. The only thing he was worrying about was Grace declining to come shopping with him; any excuse to spend his money and Grace was usually the first out of the door.

Boyd stopped and looked in every shop window, trying to find presents for Spencer, Stella and Eve, as well as something special for Grace. Tabitha was easy; Boyd would just buy her a bottle of red wine, even though he knew she wasn't expecting anything. But he had been back to the office a few times since his retirement, and he had talked with the new profiler and found her to be genuinely likeable.

But for his former team, he had more than Christmas to buy for; the presents he eventually got had to be something a little special too. Not long after Boyd had retired, Spencer was promoted to Detective Chief Inspector and then put in charge of the Cold Case Unit, and Stella was promoted to Detective Sergeant, and made Spencer's unofficial second in command. So far, the team had done an outstanding job and their clear up rate was still as high and as unblemished as it had been when Boyd was in charge.

Eve was still Eve, but Boyd felt she deserved a little something extra for still being with the team; they did not have such great luck with scientists.

The new DC was the second to be appointed to the team; the first was assigned to the team by the AC, and had made an aggressive pass at Stella in his first week. Boyd heard that Spencer was less than happy about the whole situation and the yelling match he had with the AC would have done Boyd very happy.

But the next DC was headhunted by Spencer himself. A young man with a dry sense of humour and an excellent career record, Graeme Addison had fit right into the team, getting on particularly well with Eve. Boyd had met him a few times, and he had admitted to Spencer that he was impressed with him.

Boyd passed a shop that sold incense and assorted bits, and he turned back to go in it. He remembered how Eve liked to burn the stuff, so he bought her a nice gift set, happy that at least one person was sorted.

He then headed for the jewellery shop, intent on buying something for Grace, but instead he came away with an unusual gold chain for Spencer, and a pair of small, delicate earrings for Stella. Neither was cheap, but it wasn't the amount of money Boyd was concerned with; it was fact that he could *see* both of his former-colleagues wearing the items.

Boyd suddenly realised he hadn't looked for anything for Frankie and a slow panic set in. He had no idea what he could get her; there was nothing that could show how much he appreciated her help, more so than the others, with Grace. In the end, Boyd decided to go for simple; a bottle of wine and a single rose, pale yellow in colour. He just hoped the flower would last until he saw Frankie at the weekend.

He stopped for lunch at a café, only because Grace had told him Eve was going round that afternoon to check up on her. Suddenly Boyd smiled, knowing exactly what he wanted to get for Grace, but he needed help; sizing up women's clothes was not his speciality.

*"Hello?"*

"Hi, Eve. How are you?" Boyd asked, and he could almost hear her smiling.

*"Hi, Boyd. I'm fine, thanks. What can I do for you?"*

"Can you meet me at the shopping centre? I need help."

*"I've known that for a long time, Boyd."* Eve paused. *"Give me twenty minutes, okay?"*

Boyd nodded. "Okay, thanks."

*"Bye."*

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After they had finished up shopping, Boyd followed Eve back to the office, to give everyone their presents but also to be nosey. No one was fooled by the brightly coloured gifts he was brandishing; they all knew any excuse to come to work was a good one where Boyd was concerned.

"What? This couldn't wait until the weekend?" Spencer asked with a grin as Boyd handed him his gift. They were all descending on Boyd and Grace's house for a meal to celebrate Christmas, and anything else they felt like.

"No, it couldn't," Boyd replied. "Don't open it yet; I'll be right back."

"Are you stalking me, Boyd?" Eve asked in an amused tone, looking up from her computer.

Boyd smiled. "Not really. I wanted to give you this."

Eve looked suspicious. "What is it?"

"Dead."

"Oh, goodie," she said, clapping her hands together. "Can I open it now?"

"Of course," Boyd replied, still smiling.

Eve ripped the paper off unceremoniously and her breath caught in her throat as she saw what he had bought her. There were incense sticks and cones, a fancy carved incense burner, some small candles, and a large slab of stone containing a rare fossil.

"I don't know if you like fossils or not, but it's dead…." Boyd never got to finish his sentence as Eve just waved at him to be quiet.

"It's the thought that counts, Boyd. Thank you." She then walked up to him, gripped his upper arm and kissed him hesitantly on the cheek.

Boyd looked uncomfortable and just shook his head. "No, thank you. For everything, with Grace."

"That's what friends are for," Eve said quietly. "Now bugger off out of my lab and let me get back to work."

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"Knock knock," Boyd said. "Are you busy?"

Tabitha looked up and smiled. "What can I do for you?"

"Nothing. I just wanted to give you this." Boyd stepped into the room and handed her a package that   
could only be a bottle of while.

"Why?"

Boyd shrugged. "It's Christmas, and we sort of know each other. And I didn't want you to feel left out."

"I see," Tabitha replied, still smiling. "So what are you going to give Graeme?"

"Some good advice."

Tabitha laughed. "Well, thank you, Boyd. How's Grace doing? And how are you?"

"We're both doing well, thanks. I think Grace is coping far better than I am, though," Boyd replied.

"I'm sure you're making her proud. Now I don't want to seem rude, but I do have paperwork to finish up before the weekend."

"You don't work over Christmas, Dr. Henley?"

Tabitha smiled again at him. "Not this year, Superintendent Boyd."

"In that case, I'll leave you alone. Merry Christmas, Tabitha."

"Merry Christmas, Boyd, and thank you again."

Boyd closed the profiler's office door and went in search of Stella, which wasn't that difficult; she was in Spencer's office. Boyd didn't know why she didn't just move her desk and things in there. He sighed; watching the two of them talking and bantering reminded him so much of all the times he and Grace had spent in that room. Instead of just barging in, Boyd knocked on the door.

"I was just leaving," Stella said, standing up and smiling.

"No, stay. Can I come in?"

Spencer nodded. "Of course."

Boyd walked in and closed the door behind him. "I want you both to listen for a moment because I may never get the nerve to say this again. I want to thank you for all your help and support since the accident, not just for and of Grace, but me as well. I don't think either of us would have survived this…upheaval if it hadn't been for the team. Also I want you to know how proud I am of you, you two especially. Spence, you've done a fantastic job running the team, and probably a better job than I did of handling its personnel. And Stella, I can see you're the perfect person to ground Spence when he needs it, just like Grace used to do for me." Boyd stepped forward and handed Stella her present.

"Thank you," she whispered.

"You can both open them now, if you like," Boyd told them. "I'm just going to talk to Addison."

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Graeme saw Boyd heading towards him and he froze. Even though the Superintendent had been retired for some months, he still had a presence about him that made many people under the rank of Inspector quiver, and even some above that rank.

"Addison," Boyd said in way of greeting, inclining his head slightly. "Are you busy?"

"Not really, sir," Graeme replied, even though he was up to his eyeballs in paperwork. "Can I help you?"

"No, I'm hoping I can help you." Boyd pulled a chair up and sat down next to the DC. "Some words of advice, Add- Graeme. Don't go out of your way to impress DCI Jordan; just be yourself, work as hard as you can, and that will be enough. And although he is the official head of the team, it's usually the good doctor or the scientist, whoever that person may be, that calls the shots."

Graeme smiled. "I've noticed that already, sir."

"I thought you might have. Always listen to the scientist and the doctor, and never scoff at what they have to say." Boyd shook his head. "You only have to admit you were wrong later, and then you get the 'I told you so' speech."

"DCI Jordan has had that once or twice," Graeme said.

Boyd looked surprised. "Really? Interesting." He grinned for a moment before turning serious again. "No matter what happens, watch each other's backs. This team is more than just your circle of immediate colleagues; they are your family. And believe me when I say there is nothing more important."

Graeme nodded. "I understand, sir. Thank you."

Boyd held his hand out and they shook. "Merry Christmas, Graeme."

"And you, sir."

Boyd turned to leave and saw his exit was blocked by Stella and Spencer. The new DS was the first to move. She flung herself unceremoniously at Boyd, wrapping her arms firmly around his neck. Before he had chance to move, she pulled back, kissed him twice on each cheek, whispered, "Thank you", and walked away.

"Don't expect that off me," Spencer said.

"Now you've disappointed me, Spence," Boyd replied.

"Yeah, yeah." He held his hand out. "Thank you."

As they shook, Boyd said, "What for?"

"For the present, for giving me a good team to handle; for everything."

Boyd smiled. "I should be thanking you, Spence."

"We'll call it even," Spencer replied. "How's that?"

"Fine by me."

Both tugged each other's arms at the same time and ended up in a rib crushing, back breaking hug. It was only brief, and they pulled apart feeling a little embarrassed, but everyone who witnessed the exchange had the good sense to keep quiet.

"I'll see you at the weekend," Boyd said to Spencer and Stella, waving as he left. It was time to go home.

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Boyd didn't realise how late it was until he pulled up outside Grace's house and saw the darkness outside. But his attention was soon turned away from winter to something much more interesting; Grace was stood at the front door, and it appeared that she was waiting for Boyd.

"Is everything alright?" he asked in a concerned voice as he strode up the path, his hands full of bags.

Grace smiled. "It is now. Here, let me help you with those." She grabbed some of the bags and carried them inside, setting them down in the hall and shutting the front door. "Let me take your coat. There's a glass of scotch in the living room for you. Might help to keep the cold away."

Boyd frowned. "Are you feeling alright, Grace?"

"Never better." Grace tilted her head slowly to one side and looked up. "Oh dear, how did that get up there?"

Boyd looked up as well, expecting to see a cobweb or something, but instead he saw mistletoe. He was about to echo Grace's comment, and ask what the hell it was doing there, when he felt hands on his face and lips covering his. The kiss was only brief, but even a man like Boyd could understand the message.

But Grace mistook his following hesitation for rejection and her face fell. "I'm sorry, I thought…well, I've been reading my diary and I seem to think that we've been getting on extremely well, that there might be a chance of…."

Boyd made a mental note to kiss Grace next time she started talking too much; it seemed to be very effective. He was gentle with her, but he found passion stirring as she slid her hands up his back and wound them into his hair.

When they finally broke apart for air, Grace found herself enduring the most intense gaze of love she had ever found herself under.

"Merry Christmas, Grace," Boyd murmured.

She smiled back. "Merry Christmas, Boyd."

TBC


	11. The Low

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*July, 2010*

Boyd slammed the front door with more force than was necessary but he really didn't care. He knew if he spent another minute in the house, he would end up doing something he would regret. Saying things wasn't the problem; after all, he was the only one who remembered, unless one of the 'kids' were there.

At times, Peter Boyd thought his life couldn't get any better. Since their admission at Christmas, he and Grace had become closer than he ever thought was possible, and not just physically. But there were other times when he felt his patience being stretched much thinner than was good for it, and today was one of those days.

It had started off when Grace had woken up before Boyd, something that rarely happened now. Boyd knew Grace got the shock of her life when she woke up next to him, as she had no memory of what he was doing there. Occasionally, though, Boyd overslept, and he was then rudely awakened with a loud cry of, "Bloody hell, Boyd! What are you doing in bed with me?"

What hurt him the most was the slight accusation in Grace's tone, like he had somehow tricked her into sleeping with him. Everything was usually sorted within a few moments, after Grace had read her diary; then she usually gave him with a lingering, passionate kiss, and a much more favourable greeting of, "I wondered why I felt so happy."

But that morning, Grace had all but screamed at Boyd to get of *her* bedroom. He had showered and dressed, and whilst he was making breakfast, Grace had tried to apologise. But it was too late; Boyd's bad mood had already set in and it would take a lot to move it. He was starting to soften under Grace's remorseful expression when he received a devastating phone call. Stella had been seriously injured in a car accident and it was doubtful whether she would survive or not. Spencer explained that she had been following a suspect, who then turned the car around and rammed into Stella, causing her car to flip on the motorway.

Boyd said he would be at the hospital as soon as he could get there, and Grace insisted on going with him. When they got there, Boyd asked for DCI Jordan, who came in with DS Goodman. But Grace stopped in the corridor, refusing to move. She just glared at Boyd, who in turn looked confused and frustrated.

When he asked her what was wrong, her reply was, "When did Spence and Stella get promoted, and why didn't you tell me?"

Boyd's terse answer of, "I'm explain later, now isn't the time," did little to help matters, and when the two of them entered the relatives' room, Spencer sensed the tension immediately. He quickly explained what was happening: Stella was in a coma with a broken arm and wrist, a broken leg, several fractured ribs and a fractured cheek bone, as well as plenty of cuts and bruises. *If* she survived, the doctors were not confident what state of fitness she could achieve when she was back on her feet.

Eve and Tabitha came round to see that Spencer was holding up alright, and to see if there had been any news on Stella. A phone call would have sufficed, but Boyd knew they had to see for themselves what was happening. Unfortunately, the new profiler's presence made Grace react very antagonistically, which was unlike her, but Boyd put it down to his lack of patience with her before. He tried to diffuse the situation by taking Grace back home, which didn't actually solve anything.

They entered into the worst argument and shouting match in over a year, and it got to the point where Boyd actually started to enjoy himself. For a brief moment in time, things actually seemed to be back to normal. But as with all brief moments, it was over far too soon. Grace stormed upstairs and slammed the bedroom door shut so hard that the whole house shook.

Boyd sighed and had just sat down when the phone rang. It was Spencer. It was difficult to make out what he was saying because he was so choked up, but it seemed that Stella had suddenly come out of her coma, and was already asking to go home. Spencer promised to call again when he knew exactly how long it would take Stella to recover. He wisely didn't ask how things were between Boyd and Grace.

Boyd took several deep breaths to calm himself after he had put the phone. He didn't even realise he was so worried about his former junior officer. Once he was certain he wasn't going to cry, he headed upstairs to pass the news on to Grace, their argument forgotten in an instant, to him at least.

Grace listened stony-faced, and Boyd began to worry. Once he'd finished speaking, she told him to get out. He tried to make amends, tried to get her to talk to him, but she just screamed at him.

"Get out of the room, Boyd! Out of the room, out of the house, and out of my life!"

Her words stung him severely and turned on his heel, rage building quickly in him. He stormed downstairs and out of the front door, slamming it shut with more force than was necessary. He knew if he spent another moment in the house, he would end up doing something he would severely regret.

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Boyd hesitated briefly before putting his key in the lock and opening the front door. He had been out for hours, he knew he had, and he'd deliberately turned his mobile off so people wouldn't start hassling him. But now he felt guilty as hell for walking out like he had done, and Boyd knew if anything had happened to Grace while he was out, he would never forgive himself, never mind what the team would do to him.

The house was dark and Boyd started to panic. But a muffled noise from the living room made him relax; Grace was still at home. He entered the room to find her curled on the couch, a tissue clutched tightly on hand, dried tears tracks staining her cheeks. Boyd's heart leapt into his throat and he crossed the floor in three long strides, dropping to his knees before the woman he loved.

"Grace, I am so sorry. Can you forgive me? Please?" Boyd begged. "It's just been one of those days, and you know I'm not the most patient of men…." He was cut off by Grace flinging herself into his arms, knocking him flat on his back.

"I thought you weren't coming back," she sobbed.

"Oh, Grace." Boyd ignored the throbbing pain in his back and wrapped his arms around her, holding her close to him. As she cried on his chest, he made a silent promise to never put her through anything like that again, no matter how difficult things got.

TBC


	12. The Last Straw

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*January, 2011*

Spencer walked into his office, sat heavily in his office chair and sighed. As his hand automatically reached for the bottom drawer where the bottle of whisky was kept, he barked a harsh laugh. If he didn't watch it, he'd turn into Boyd. But after the day he'd had, he needed that drink.

"You should never drink alone."

Spencer looked up, unsurprised, and shrugged. "Why not? I'm good company."

Frankie just shook her head, closed the door behind her and sat on the couch. "No comment."

"What do you want?" Spencer asked, a little snappier than he intended.

But Frankie ignored him. "I was wondered if you had a spare glass. You're not the only who could use a drink."

Spencer gave her a brilliant grin of old, took out two glasses and the bottle, and joined her on the couch. "Cheers."

"What are we celebrating?" Frankie asked as she sipped the scotch.

"Peace and bloody quiet."

"I'll drink to that."

"I thought Boyd would never leave," Spencer said, shaking his head. "I like the guy, but…."

"Today he was being a pain in the arse, I know." Frankie took another sip of liquid. "He's going to crash if he doesn't watch it."

"I thought that was going to happen last year when Stella was injured."

As soon as Spencer was sure Stella would be alright, he had gone round to Boyd and Grace's house to check up on them, and once he'd learnt of their argument, he had told Frankie, who joined in the gentle, but firm, telling off of both of them.

Since then, things seemed to have been going well, but over the past week, Boyd had been dropping into the office more frequently, and Grace refused to receive any visitors. When asked what was wrong, Boyd would just shrug and say that Grace wasn't feeling very well. It didn't fool anyone, but Boyd was still a force to be reckoned with and no one wanted to push him on the subject.

"Do you think they've been arguing again?" Frankie asked quietly.

Spencer shrugged. "Either that or he's wondering how best to propose to her."

"Spence!" Frankie exclaimed in surprise.

"What? Don't tell me you haven't been expecting it."

"That's not the point. I don't think that's what's bothering him." Frankie drained her glass and held it out for me. "Do you remember when we first met? How much we argued?" She shook her head.

Spencer smiled. "Yeah, but you were annoying." Frankie pretending to be indignant and hit him on the arm. "That wouldn't have hurt a fly," he told her.

"You're not worth my energy."

"Ouch."

As they lapsed into comfortable silence once more, both of their thoughts to the day that was just ending.

Frankie had come by HQ, at Spencer's request, to help with a particularly tough case, and they were finally making great progress. Until Boyd showed up.

The ex-DSI kept trying to talk to the team, but they were all too busy to give him too much time. He was constantly underfoot, and now Frankie thought about it properly, it was completely unlike Boyd.

Spencer had finally lost his temper and told Graeme to escort Boyd out of the building, and to tell security not to let him back in until at least tomorrow. But before they had left the office, Spencer got the most important phone call of the case, and he ordered Graeme and Stella to arm themselves immediately. Boyd's presence went completely unnoticed as the team readied themselves for action.

Frankie and Tabitha stayed in the lab, coordinating by phone, while Eve went to the site with them. Boyd stayed in the shadows, lurking for some reason, but no one bothered. They were too busy concentrating on getting a result, and keeping an eye on Stella.

In seven months, the DS had shown remarkable resilience and determination as she slowly worked herself back to fitness. Never once did Stella allow herself to be beaten by what had happened, and when she did feel down, the team made sure the mood didn't last long. Frankie had watched it all from afar and marvelled at what a tight-knit unit they made.

She also couldn't help but admire Spencer. He was the only person who had stayed in the unit from its formation, and he had endured every change and challenge that had been thrown his way.

Frankie smiled and glanced at the man by her side. "What are you thinking?"

"Stella. She did good today," Spencer replied.

Stella had insisted on returning to active duty as soon as possible, so today she and Graeme had entered the room where their suspect was holding his hostage. He wouldn't 'come quietly', so Stella 'persuaded' him. Spencer had never been prouder.

The mood was dampened slightly when they returned; Boyd fussed like a mother hen, but no one thought of it as odd, just annoying. Eve, Tabitha and Graeme had all left for the pub, while Stella decided to hit the gym and then the showers before going home. Frankie offered to tidy the lab, while Spencer finally got rid of Boyd.

"MERDE!"

Both Frankie and Spencer shot off the couch and ran into the bullpen. "What?" Spencer asked sharply.

Stella looked up, her expression both panicked and furious. "My gun has gone."

Frankie frowned. "Gone? Where?"

"I don't know. It was here when I took my gear off and I left everything here while I went to the gym. I wanted to clean it before I put it back," Stella explained.

"Are you sure?" Frankie asked.

Stella nodded, not offended by the question; she knew Frankie well enough to know she was just checking. "I'm positive."

Spencer suddenly went very pale. "Oh, fuck!" he exclaimed, before sprinting towards the nearest exit.

WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD

Spencer sped all the way to Boyd and Grace's road, but slowed down before he reached the house. "He didn't," Frankie said, aghast.

"I hope not," the DCI muttered.

The three of them climbed out of the car, and Frankie used her spare key to enter the house. "Boyd! Grace! It's just us. Where are you?"

"Oh God! Frankie! Up here!" Grace shouted. She sounded confused, panicked and scared, which wasn't good at all.

"Stay here," Spencer told Stella as he followed Frankie upstairs.

The sight that greeted them in the bedroom was one they would never forget, no matter how hard they tried. Grace was huddled in one corner, looking frightened half to death, tears streaming down her face, her eyes wide. Boyd was sat on the floor, leaning against the wall, a defeated expression on his face.

"Come to me, Grace," Frankie said quietly. "Come on, it's alright. Boyd won't hurt you. Will you, Boyd?" The scientist looked at him, but he didn't answer.

Grace crossed the room carefully, and when Frankie gripped her arm, she started to tremble. "Take her downstairs and make a cup of tea," Spencer said, waiting until they had gone before walking towards Boyd. When he was within arm's reach, he crouched down. "Boyd, give me the gun."

"Go away, Spence."

He sighed. "I can't; I'm involved now. Are you going to tell me what this is all about or do I need to kick your arse first?" he asked, deciding the direct approach was the easiest.

Boyd looked unimpressed. "I'd like to see that, DCI Jordan."

Spencer sighed again. "Don't do that, Boyd, I'm trying to -"

"Help, yeah, I know," the older man snapped back. "Everybody's always trying to help but really, what can anyone do? There is no help for Grace, or for me."

"What's happened?"

Boyd leant his head against the wall. "Last week, I went out to get some shopping. Grace didn't want to come. I came home to find she'd burnt her diaries and calendars, everything that helped her to remember. And before you ask, no, I didn't lose my temper."

Spencer nodded. "Go on."

"I asked her why, and Grace started yelling that she didn't want to remember any more, that she was sick of her condition, and tired of living." Boyd swallowed hard to stop himself from crying. "I told her she didn't mean that, and she said she did because she didn't have anything to live for."

"What happened next?" Spencer asked, knowing how much those words would have hurt his former boss.

"I said, 'What about me?' Grace just shook her head and replied, 'Didn't you hear me? Nothing! Nothing at all! I wish I was dead and I wish you were dead too!'"

"Shit, Boyd, why didn't you tell us?" Spencer asked.

"Because I thought that everything would be fine the next day," Boyd replied flatly. "I thought Grace would forget."

Spencer grimaced. "Of course, how could I forget that?" He shook his head. "Go on."

"Grace records her thoughts sometimes. She says that it's better for her than reading words," Boyd said, a ghost of a smile appearing on his face, but it soon disappeared. "She had been recording something when I came home and hadn't switched it off. I came back the next day from a walk to find Grace listening to that argument." He shook his head. "When she was asleep, I tried to find the tape so I could destroy it, but Grace has hidden it somewhere. I think she's been listening to it all week, and this morning, she told me she meant every word it, which is why I was at the office. I was hoping I could borrow Eve or Frankie. I knew they'd be able to find where Grace had hidden the tape."

"But we were busy and we weren't listening to you." Spencer hung his head. "I'm sorry, Boyd. I'll make sure it never happens again. No matter what's going on at work, I'll make sure one of us always has time for you."

"There won't be any more 'time', Spence," Boyd said quietly. "For me, or for Grace."

" Look, I realise how hard this must be…."

Boyd gave a harsh laugh. "No, you don't."

But Spencer was having none of that. "Yes, actually, I do. Do you think you're the only who cares for Grace? Of course you're not! We all love her as well, maybe not as much as you do or in the same way, but we still love her and miss her, miss the way she used to be! You don't *have* to do this on your own; you just decided to!" Spencer bent his head to get his emotions back under control. "Sir…Boyd…." He took a deep breath. "Peter, please. Give me the gun. Don't do this to Grace. She needs you. Despite what she said, she needs you, and once we find that tape, we'll destroy it and anything else that gives her a reminder of all this."

"And what about Grace herself?" Boyd asked. "She's still out there. She'll remember until she sleeps, and until then she'll hate me."

"No, she won't. Grace is worried about you, Bo- Peter. I don't actually think she meant to push you that far, but you know that we always hurt the ones we love. Now are you going to give me the gun? Please?"

Boyd's resolve wavered under the weight of Spencer's words and eventually it cracked. As he started to shake, he dropped the gun on the floor and covered his face with his hands. Spencer reached forward, took the weapon and passed it to Stella, who had appeared behind him. He then crept up to Boyd and sat next to him.

"It's just so bloody hard sometimes, Spence," Boyd said between sobs. "I miss Grace so fucking much! I know she's still here, but it's not the same."

Spencer sighed and put an arm around Boyd's shoulders. "I know, boss. I know."

TBC


	13. The Comeback

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*April, 2011*

Boyd was like a man possessed 'the incident'. It was astounding how he had taken charge of his and Grace's life, vowing quite adamantly that no matter how hard things got, he would never allow himself to fall into that situation again. Time and again, the team would just shake their heads and marvel at his strength.

After Boyd had stopped crying, he and Spencer had sat down with Grace, Frankie and Stella. They discussed what had happened, and all three promised to stay with Boyd until Grace fell asleep. The next day everything was back to normal, for Grace at least, but Boyd refused to let the incident go forgotten. He sat Grace down and explained everything that had happened. He recorded their discussions, and by the end of the week, he had replaced her diaries and calendars.

To begin with, Grace was actually frightened of Boyd, but he refused to be beaten by that and each night, a member of the team would sleep on the couch while Boyd was in the spare room. After a while - Boyd had stopped worrying about time, as it only held meaning for him - Grace told them to go home and not bother coming back; she wasn't scared any more, she was angry with Boyd instead. Spencer volunteered to stay 'just in case'. He wasn't worried about Grace; he was concerned for Boyd's health.

Grace started off slowly but she quickly fell into a rhythm and Spencer decided her tone could probably sand tanker hulls down. Surprisingly, though, Boyd just sat and took everything Grace threw at him, and when she had finished, he said, "I'm sorry."

Boyd had no idea how long Grace had been angry with him now, but he admitted to himself as he walked around the supermarket that her anger - however well-founded it was - was starting to wear thin on his nerves, because even though Grace didn't remember what had happened in previous days, she *did* have her diary, calendar and recordings. Boyd decided she was doing it on purpose.

He pulled up in the drive just as Eve was closing the front door behind her.

"What are you doing here?" Boyd asked, frowning. "Is everything okay?"

Eve looked uncomfortable. "I'm not sure. I-I think you should go in, Boyd." Then she noticed the shopping. "Do you need a hand?"

Boyd shook his head. "I'll unload afterwards. You should have called me if something was wrong."

"Grace wouldn't let me," Eve said. "Look, I've got to get back to work."

Boyd knew an aversion technique when he saw one, and as he watched the scientist drive away, he decided something was definitely 'up', as Spencer would say. And he knew Eve well enough to know that it wasn't a true emergency, so trying to remain calm, Boyd grabbed the shopping bags and entered the house.

Everything looked normal, except for no Grace. "Grace! I'm home," Boyd called. Despite all the arguing and problems, he had never stopped calling it 'home' since the day he moved in.

"I'm upstairs!" she called back, and Boyd noted how normal her tone was. They had already had their argument for the day, or at least he hoped they had.

"Is everything okay?"

"Did you get the shopping?" Grace replied.

Boyd rolled his eyes. "Yes, I did. Everything on the list."

"Okay."

Now he shook his head. He had no idea what was going on, but he wasn't about to panic about it, so humming quietly to himself, Boyd put the groceries away and then made a cup of tea for them both. He had never been a fan of the stuff, but since retiring, he found coffee gave him too much energy.  
Boyd was concentrating so hard on not spilling the tea that when he saw Grace suddenly right in front of him at the top of the stairs, he jumped violently and swore, hot liquid scalding his hands.

"Sorry," Grace said. "Here." She took the cups from him and then took his hands gently, leading him to the bathroom. "Why, Boyd?"

Boyd looked at her. "You startled me."

"You know what I mean."

Boyd sighed. He knew this would come. After the upset and the anger would be the questions, and he wasn't sure Grace would like the answer. But he had promised himself he wouldn't lie to her, so he steeled himself for whatever reply she might give him.

"I miss you," Boyd said quietly as Grace washed and dried his hands carefully. "I know you're still alive and you're still 'you', but it's not the same, Grace. Come on, you're the psychologist, you know how this shit works."

Grace allowed herself a small smile. While the words were the same, the tone was much softer than she was used to. "I do, Boyd, but I never thought you would crack like that. You just don't seem the type."

Boyd gave her a crooked smile. "Everyone is the type, Dr. Foley."

"True, but I still don't understand *why* this hurts you so much."

Boyd winced, and Grace noticed. "No, you didn't hurt my hands," he murmured, shaking his head. "Grace, how can you not know? I share your bed; I share every part of your life, the highs and the lows. I love you; what more can I say?"

"Nothing, Peter. I suppose I just needed to hear it." Grace smiled and brushed her fingers over his cheek. "You need a shave."

"Do I?"

She nodded. "I don't want you wasting your life on me."

"I know, that's why you said what you did, but you seem to have forgotten what *I* said to *you* the day I brought you home from the hospital," Boyd said with a smile.

Grace glared half-heartedly. "Refresh my memory."

He took both her hands in his. "You're my life now, and any time spent with you, around you…on you," he added with a grin."

"Boyd!"

"Is not wasted," he finished. "I knew it wasn't going to be easy when I made my decision to live with you, I guess I just didn't realise how hard it would get at times. But that's only at times, Grace. For the rest of the time, it's…perfect. Just like you."

Grace leant forward and kissed him gently, but the action conveyed so much. "I moved your stuff back into our bedroom," she said after they parted. "That's why Eve was here. She always seems to volunteer for surprising you."

"Or she gets volunteered because she knows she can get away with it," Boyd replied.

Grace smiled. "Or that. So are we good again?"

Boyd nodded. "There'll be more bumps along the way, no doubt, but you've got to remember that I'm here for you because in a way, you're all that I have."

"Remember, Boyd?" Grace asked, amused. "Are you trying to be funny?"

"No, that's when I try to dance."

"You don't dance."

"I know I don't, but I try. That's bad enough."

TBC


	14. The Pain

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*September, 2013*

The pale autumn sun gave everything a rich colour and Boyd breathed in deeply as he walked slowly through the park. His hands were shoved deep in his pockets as there was already a heavy chill in the air, and his chin was hidden in a thick scarf that was tucked into his overcoat. Grace was at his side, one arm linked with his and her other hand resting on his coat sleeve. Every so often she would lean her head against his shoulder, and Boyd would automatically move so his cheek was touching her hair.

"Ever thought we'd make it this far?" Grace asked quietly.

"Nope," Boyd replied as he kicked some dried leaves.

"Regrets?"

He smiled. "Plenty, but none about me and you. Well, except that it didn't happen sooner."

Grace smiled back, albeit sadly, and nodded. "I know." Suddenly she sighed, disengaged herself from Boyd, and walked over to a bench.

Frowning, Boyd followed. "Are you alright?" he asked as he sat down next to her. Grace nodded. "I don't believe you."

"I wish things had been different, Boyd," Grace said, her voice cracking slightly. "I wish our time together had been different. Do you see those children playing over there?"

Boyd looked over at the playground in the park, memories of time lost when Luke was a child flooding back to him. "Yes."

Grace took his hand and squeezed it. "I wish that Luke had been ours," she said quietly. "I wish we had met so many years ago." She sighed. "I wish so many things, Boyd, that you can't imagine."

Boyd leant across and kissed her temple. "So tell me."

"In an ideal world, we would be the people we are now, minus the memory problems, and we'd have met when we were younger," Grace replied. "Work would have come second to family, and now, we'd be sat here watching the grandchildren play. It's funny, I never wanted children after…after Harry, but now, here with you, I wish those children over there were ours."

Boyd had no reply to that so he wrapped an arm around her and pulled her into his side, holding her closely and kissing her hair. "Well, you can always choose a religion that believes in reincarnation," he said after a while. "That way we might get a second chance."

Grace looked at him, allowing him to wipe her tears away. "What if we come back as dung beetles?"

"As long as we're together, we'll be happy."

"Speak for yourself, Boyd," Grace replied, and he laughed.

"Better?"

"A little. Come on, let's walk. I'm cold."

"The team breaking up hasn't helped, has it?" Boyd asked.

Grace shook her head. "They were like family to me, and for me, even though I don't work there any more."

"We, Grace," Boyd corrected her. "'Us' and 'we', not 'me' and 'I'."

"Don't be pedantic."

"It's fun."

"Shut up."

"Yes, ma'am."

"As I was saying," Grace continued after glaring at Boyd, "They have been like family, from the day the cold case unit was established, and now we'll never be together again."

As much as Boyd wanted to dispute that fact, he knew it was true. Despite their clear up rate being as good as ever, the cold case squad were going their separate ways. Spencer was taking over as the head of area Murder, while Graeme was going to Vice. Tabitha had been offered a teaching position, which she had only accepted because the team was disbanding.

The two biggest shocks were Eve and Stella. Stella had been seeing a man, Vincent - French born but with English parentage - who was moving back to France due to his work, and he asked her to go with him. Boyd would never forget the expression on Spencer's face when he told the older man that Stella had agreed. She already had a job lined up with the French police, and she would be leaving the country within the next couple of months.

Boyd personally couldn't believe it. Stella had always seemed so comfortable in England, but when he asked her about moving back to France, she said she was happy about it because Vincent would be there. Stella admitted to Boyd that she really loved him, and that they were hoping to start a family together. Boyd could only smile and wish her luck; he had already decided that at Stella's leaving party, he would give her a hug. It seemed right now.

Spencer had been hurt initially; he took it as though Stella was deserting him. But a long talk afterwards - and a black eye on Spencer's part - they had regained their friendship and agreed to keep in touch.

The problem, and it was something Boyd was certain he would never understand, was Eve. One day she was working with the squad, the next day, she wasn't. No one would tell him what had happened, but to say the scientist left under a cloud was a gross understatement.

Boyd had explained everything to Grace, and even she couldn't understand what might have happened for Eve to just leave like that. The scientist even stopped visiting Grace, and that angered Boyd, but try as he might, he could not get in touch with her.

"No, we won't be together again," Boyd admitted. "But Spence will still visit, as will Frankie. That's better than nothing."

Grace sighed and nodded. "I know. I guess I'm just having one of those days where everything hurts."

Boyd kissed her again. "You're allowed them." He suddenly grinned. "The playground is free. Want to go on the swings?"

Grace laughed and shook her head as she put a hand on his chest. "Oh Peter, what would I do without you?"

"You'll never have the chance to find out, I'm afraid."

TBC


	15. The Years Gone By

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All lyrics used belong to Linda Ronstadt, song 'Don't Know Much' feat. Aaron Neville.

WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD

*June, 2020*

Spencer saw her coming and moved up on the couch to make space for her to sit down. "Tired already, Grace?" he asked.

Grace smiled. "Not really, I just can't remember who half of these people are."

Spencer looked at her before shaking his head and laughing. "It'd be a minor miracle if you could."

"Very true and on any other day, I would take offence at that comment," Grace replied before mimicking Spencer's action and shaking her head. "I can't believe eleven years have passed."

"Neither can I. I honestly never thought Boyd would make it this far. I'm proud of him," Spencer said. "Well, I'm proud of both of you."

"And we're proud of you," Grace replied, squeezing his arm. "You, Frankie, Stella, Eve. You're all the family we never got the chance to have."

"We're dysfunctional, then."

Grace laughed. "What family isn't?"

Spencer smiled. "Very true."

"Have you heard from Stella recently?"

Spencer nodded. "She sent me a letter a couple of months ago with a photo of her and the children."

"How old are they now?" Grace asked.

"Bernard is nearly six and Juliette is four."

Grace shook her head. "I can't believe Stella has a family. Have you never thought about getting married, Spence?"

He smiled somewhat sadly at her. "You've asked me that many times before."

Grace just nodded. "I know and I'll probably ask you many times again because I can't understand how a good looking man like you - who has a lovely character as well - can still be single."

"You're making me blush," Spencer said.

"Hardly."

"I've never found the right person, and to be honest, I haven't looked very hard. I live for my job, that's it." Spencer shook his head. "I admire Boyd, you know. At least he tried to have a family, even though he failed miserably at it, really. But at least he had the guts to try; I think I'm too scared."

Grace didn't answer; there wasn't much she could say. "Spence, are you ever going to tell us what happened with Eve?" she asked after a while.

He immediately stiffened, and the former profiler knew she'd lost him. "It's in the past and the past is best left where it is. Excuse me, Grace, I need a refill."

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"Frankie, why have you never got married?" Boyd asked.

Frankie laughed. "Who would want to put up with me?"

He frowned. "Lots of men, if you took the time to look."

"Pot, kettle, black. Do those words mean anything to you, Boyd?"

"Lots, but I'm not sure the context would be the same."

Frankie shook her head. "It took a psycho for you to see Grace, and she's been in front of you for years. I learnt how to be blind from the best."

"That makes no sense whatsoever."

"That's because you're not a psychologist."

"Neither are you," Boyd pointed out.

"Ah, but I'm a woman. We're allowed to be confusing," Frankie replied.

Boyd rolled his eyes. "Don't I know it."

"You're right, I've never looked very hard for anyone, despite wanting the company," Frankie said, taking pity on him. "But I probably wouldn't notice the 'one' if he was right in front of him."

"What about Spence?"

"He's a lovely guy, but he's a friend and besides, he's married to the job."

Boyd nodded, somewhat sadly. "I have noticed."

"It's his choice, Boyd. Be proud of him," Frankie said.

"Oh, I am. Of all of you. More than any of you will ever know."

Frankie put her hand on his arm and smiled. "We know, Boyd, and we're proud of you too."

"Thank you. Refill?"

"Hell, yeah."

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"Have they all gone?"

Boyd looked over his shoulder, smiled and nodded. "They have. Did you enjoy the party?" he asked as he finished washing up.

"I did, yes, but it was tiring," Grace replied. "All those people."

"I know what you mean."

"I almost forgot what you looked like, I saw so little of you," Grace said, wrapping her arms around his waist and resting her head on his back.

"I have got something for you, but I wanted to wait until everyone had left." Boyd turned carefully and led Grace back into the living room. "Wait there a minute."

"What are you up to, Boyd?" Grace asked, smiling and shaking her head.

He turned and extended a hand as the piano intro of a song came through the stereo speakers. "Dance with me."

*Look at this face  
I know the years are showing  
Look at this life  
I still don't know where it's going*

"Since when did you learn to dance?" Grace asked as they moved slowly around the room.

"I've always been able to dance, just not very well," Boyd replied, holding her close to him.

*I don't know much  
But I know I love you  
And that may be  
All I need to know  
Look at these eyes  
They never seen what mattered  
Look at these dreams  
So beaten and so battered  
I don't know much  
But I know I love you  
And that may be  
All I need to know*

"I haven't heard this song for a long time," Grace murmured. "It is definitely us, isn't it?"

"I think so," Boyd said.

*So many questions  
Still left unanswered  
So much  
I've never broken through  
And when I feel you near me  
Sometimes I see so clearly  
The only truth I've known  
Is me and you*

Grace held onto Boyd tighter. "That is definitely how I feel about you."

Boyd said nothing; he just kissed her hair and thanked whoever was listening for his good fortune.

*Look at this man  
So blessed with inspiration  
Look this soul  
Still searching for salvation*

"Not searching; I've found it," Boyd whispered.

*I don't know much  
But I know I love you  
And that may be  
All there is to know*

Grace nodded her agreement with the song. "And that's the most important thing to know."

Boyd kept her in the safety of his arms. "I love you, Grace, and I always will."

She looked up at him and smiled. "I know."

TBC


	16. The Tragedy

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*March, 2022*

Boyd stood in the kitchen making lunch, grumbling quietly to himself. It wasn't the weather that was bothering him, or being in a state of boredom due to his retirement. It wasn't even Grace's condition that was getting him down; this something else entirely. Most simply, Boyd hated getting old.

He hated how it took him so much longer to get up in the morning; hell, how much longer it took him to do *anything*. It was times like this that Boyd had so much respect for Grace he thought he would drown in it.

Even though she was older than him, Grace never complained about her age, not any more, anyway. And now, so many years after the accident, she never complained about her disability either. Sometimes she would say, 'I'm tired today, Boyd. Tell me what I need to know then I don't have to read.' And he would. He would sit next to her, Grace's body curled into his side, and he would read her diaries like a story book.

The phone rang and out of habit, Boyd yelled, "I'll get it!" He didn't wait for Grace's reply before picking up the receiver. "Hello?"

*"Hi, boss."*

Boyd smiled. "Fifteen years on and you still haven't got the hang of using my first name."

Spencer laughed. *"What can I say? Old dogs and all that."*

*'Yeah, very old dogs!'*

Boyd laughed as well. "I don't need to guess who that is. Hi, Frankie."

*"Hang on, let me put this on speaker phone,"* Spencer muttered. *"There."*

*"Hi, Boyd,"* Frankie replied.

"How are you?"

*"Fine, thanks. How about you and Grace?"* Frankie asked.

"Trundling along as usual. Do you want me to get her?"

*"Actually, we're calling for a reason,"* Spencer said, his tone serious.

Boyd sat down. "What's happened?"

There was a long pause. *"It's Eve,"* Spencer replied eventually. *"She's died."*

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After Boyd had put the phone down, he finished lunch, made a pot of tea and slowly made his way upstairs, wondering how best to explain to Grace what had happened.

He pushed the bedroom door opened and stopped, his heart melting at the sight in front of him. Grace had fallen asleep while reading, her glasses perched halfway down her nose, her toes curling against the cold. Smiling, Boyd set the tray down quietly, covered Grace up carefully with the blanket and removed her glasses. He then poured himself a cup of tea and sat down on the chair facing the bed, waiting for her to wake up.

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"Oh, Boyd, you gave me a fright," Grace said a few hours later.

"I can't help that, it's the way my face looks," he replied.

Grace glared. "Not funny. Why didn't you wake me?"

"You looked peaceful."

"Hardly. You're worried."

Boyd looked at her. "Why do you say that?"

"I've been sleeping more than normal, haven't I." It wasn't exactly a question, but it wasn't a statement either.

"Yes, you have," Boyd replied honestly.

"I feel fine," Grace reassured him, smiling. Then she held her hand out.

Wordlessly, Boyd crossed the room, got onto the bed and under the blanket with her. "I worry because I love you."

"I know," Grace murmured, resting her head on his shoulder. "Did I hear the phone ring earlier?"

Boyd nodded. "Grace, you remember Eve, don't you?"

"Of course."

"Well, the team broke up some years ago, and there was a big argument involving Eve. Spence never would tell us what it was about, and we haven't seen Stella since she moved back to France," Boyd explained.

Grace nodded. "I see. Thank you."

Boyd smiled. "It's easier for you. That was Spencer and Frankie on the phone. Eve…Eve's died."

Grace looked up. "How?"

"Cancer. Apparently she'd been battling it for a while," Boyd replied.

"I told her she should quit smoking," Grace said.

Boyd nodded. "I know. The funeral is next week."

"Are we going?"

"If you want."

"Flowers?"

Boyd nodded again. "And Spence told me that Eve left you something in her will."

Grace stared at him in shock. "Really?"

Boyd nodded one last time before saying, "Her body farm."

What he *really* hated was not being able to move as quickly as he could even five years ago; Grace's slap landed exactly where she wanted it to.

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Grace insisted that the wake after Eve's funeral be held at her and Boyd's house, and he hadn't argued. The most pleasant surprise was Stella's arrival; no one, not even Spencer, knew she was coming, and the reunion between the old team was emotional.

"Remember what I said, Grace," Boyd told her at one point when they were alone in the kitchen. "Don't ask Stella what happened between them and Eve."

Grace just smiled and kissed his cheek. "I wouldn't dream of it," she replied, adding over her shoulder be she left the kitchen, "I'll just badger Spencer later."

Boyd rolled his eyes. "I should warn him," he murmured to himself.

The group diminished as the afternoon wore on, and Stella was one of the last to leave. "I wish I could stay longer, but I have work tomorrow," she said.

Grace smiled. "You came, that's the important thing." She hugged the younger woman hard. "Oh, it was so good to see you."

"You too." Stella turned to Boyd and kissed him on both cheeks. "Look after her."

Boyd nodded and automatically put his arm around Grace's shoulders. "I always do, I always will."

Stella then looked at Spencer. No words were spoken as the two of them embraced fiercely and separated quickly. Stella gave him a quick kiss on the lips before nodding to them all and leaving.

Frankie appeared at Spencer's side and slipped her arm through his. "People still use e-mails, believe it or not," she said lightly.

Spencer turned and smiled. "That's a little stone age, isn't it?"

Boyd rolled his eyes again. "Does anybody want something stronger to drink than tea or coffee?"

Spencer nodded firmly. "I could definitely do with one," he said, starting to follow the older man to the kitchen.

But Grace stayed still, looking curiously at Spencer. "Are you going to tell us now what the problem was with you and Eve?"

"Who said it was just me?" he replied.

"I may not have a great memory, Spence, but there's nothing wrong with the state of my intuition," Grace replied, a little acidly.

Spencer stiffened but didn't snap back. "Whatever happened with Eve happened in the past and that's exactly where it should stay. You can't do anything to help now, and there was nothing to be done before. So just leave it. Please. Let one of us rest in peace," he added in a low voice.

"Come on, I've got a decent scotch I've been saving for such an occasion," Boyd said, breaking the tension. He took Grace's hand and squeezed it reassuringly; his silent comment was to do as Spencer asked and leave the subject well alone.

Grace understood and she smiled her thanks back. It always amazed her that whatever happened now, Boyd was there for her, supporting her, and she loved him so much for it.

TBC


	17. The Storm

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*October, 2023*

Boyd should have realised that morning when he came back with the shopping that it was not going to be an easy day, but he was too engrossed in the 'holiday'. Halloween had lost its meaning once; kids would scoff at the whole idea, preferring to smash bus stations to pieces instead. But somehow, sometime over the years, the fun had come rushing back to October 31st. Young children were no longer sullen about being forced to go out trick or treating, and older teenagers weren't embarrassed at being seen with their younger siblings by their mates.

It filled Boyd with an emotion he couldn't quite put his finger on when all the kids came knocking on their door. At first there were only a few, but Boyd had quickly gained a reputation for having the best - and the most - candy in the neighbourhood.

His first clue, however, that a storm was on the horizon should have been when Grace asked him why he had bought so much chocolate and sweets. He just smiled and kissed her, telling her it was Halloween.

"Stupid holiday if you ask me," Grace had grumbled.

Boyd ignored her. Grace's age was starting to catch with her disability and it made her incredibly grouchy at times. There were occasions, when that irritability was directed at someone else, that Boyd felt a twinge of pride; he was now the pacifier, not the instigator. It was ironic to him, but he knew it had to be that way. He could no longer lose his temper at will, and he silently admitted it had made him a better person. He just wished it could have happened sooner.

"Boyd! Come and watch telly with me," Grace called.

The sun had set earlier than normal, but it was a mild night and Boyd hoped there would be many visitors that night. The pumpkins were adorned the gate, and the skeleton that hung by the door told the children this was the house to call to.

"What are you watching?" Boyd asked.

Grace shrugged. "I don't know. I'm not bothered. I just wanted you to come and sit with me."

He smiled and made himself comfortable on the couch. "Alright."

After a while, there was a knock on the door, but before Boyd could move, Grace said, "I'll get it."

His smile grew. He loved it when Grace got involved in anything like Halloween, or Christmas; Boyd liked to think she was remembering, though he knew that was impossible.

"Who was it?" Boyd asked as Grace came back into the room.

"Nobody."

He frowned but didn't pursue the matter. When someone knocked again, Boyd was already on his feet heading to the kitchen. "I've got it," he said. Opening up the front door, he grinned at the sight in front of him. "Evening, guys. What can I do for you?"

"Candy, mister! Please!" they all chorused.

Boyd laughed. "I love the costumes. Home made?"

"Of course!" came the indignant reply.

He laughed again and dished out the sweets. "Here you go. Behave yourselves!"

"Thanks, mister!"

Boyd was still smiling when he sat back down on the couch, but Grace's expression made him turn serious. "What?"

"Who was that?"

"Kids, Grace. It's Halloween, remember?" It was an effort to keep his voice mild, but Boyd thought he managed fairly well.

But Grace was looking at him strangely. "Oh, okay. Let me answer the door tonight, though, okay?"

There was something about the way Grace spoke, and then her expression, that didn't quite match up, but the last thing Boyd wanted to do was argue, so he forced a smile and said, "Okay."

At some point, Boyd fell asleep. He was vaguely aware of the front door being opened and shut again, but he paid no attention. It must have been some hours later when he awoke again, just in time to hear Grace mutter, "Finally."

Boyd thought she was talking to the television, which she had a habit of doing, until he caught a glimpse of a blue flashing light. His eyes flew open, wondering what the hell a police car was doing outside his house.

Grace disappeared from the couch and Boyd heard the front door open. "It took you long enough," he heard Grace grumble loudly.

A young, fresh-faced PC was shown into the living room, and Boyd couldn't help but think he looked familiar. "I'm sorry, sir," he said apologetically.

"Erm, what for?" Boyd asked, looking confused.

"We had a call about several disturbances here. Kids playing pranks. The lady was upset." It was clear the PC was very uncomfortable but Boyd didn't know why.

"Do I know you?"

The PC shook his head. "No, sir, but I have heard of you."

Boyd just grunted. "What's your name?"

"It's Addison, sir."

"Do you have a first name to go with that?" Boyd asked.

"Rick, sir."

Boyd stared at him. "Rick."

The PC winced. "I know, sir, but it was my mother's idea. I'm trying to change it to Richard, but Rick has stuck."

Boyd's mind was working fast. "Is your…uncle Graeme?"

PC Addison smiled. "Yes, sir. That's how I know you."

"Excuse me, but you're here to deal with the pesky kids!" Grace shouted.

Suddenly everything made sense to Boyd, even why young Addison was there. "I take it you were in the neighbourhood?" Boyd asked him.

The underlying question was clear to the PC. "Yes, sir," Addison replied. "But we were busy with a, er, another case, which is why it took so long for us to get here."

Which meant that when the call came in, no one took it seriously until Addison heard about it, and because he must have known of Grace's condition from his uncle, he volunteered to go and sort the 'problem' out. Boyd liked him a lot.

"Well, Richard, the problem is completely under control, but thank you for stopping by." Boyd stood and shook the beaming PC's hand. "Say hello to your uncle for me when you see him. I hope he's doing well."

"I will, sir. Thank you, sir." Addison was still grinning when Boyd shut the door.

"What the hell are you doing, Boyd?" Grace yelled. "He was here to solve a problem and you just dismissed him! You're not a policeman any more; you have no idea what's going on out there!"

There was a cold, bleak silence as the police car left and no one else came calling. It was past the hour for trick or treating anyway, but Boyd wondered if the children would ever come back after Grace's behaviour that night. He could only wonder what she might have said to them.

"Well? Are you going to say something or just stare at me?"

Something inside Boyd snapped; he heard it, he could feel. All the years that had passed when he remained calmed, all the situations he had been in where he had kept him temper instead of losing it, and he'd had enough.

"There was no problem, Grace, there was just children celebrating Halloween!" Boyd shouted back. "If you'd bothered to read your diaries today, you'd have known that! We have this problem every single you - you remember Halloween as a time of terror, not of fun! Everything's changed - can't you get that through your head?"

"No, I can't, because I can't remember, can I?" Grace yelled loudly, her voice full of loathing, though Boyd wasn't sure whether it was at him or herself.

"I *told* you! I explained what today was and you blatantly ignored me! Why, Grace? Why did you do that?"

"I didn't think you knew what you were doing," Grace replied candidly. "I thought age had finally caught up with you and addled your brain."

This time Boyd did just stare. "Why did you think that?"

"Because the Boyd I knew was never this sensitive, especially not where children were concerned!"

Grace's words struck a nerve, whether it was intentional or not, and Boyd immediately closed himself off from his feelings.

"Well I'm not the Boyd you remember. We all change Grace," he said coldly.

"I can see," she replied, her tone bitter. "If he happens to come back - the Boyd I remember - tell him to give me a call. I don't like the new one."

Boyd watched her turn and go upstairs. He heard the bedroom door slam and he retrieved the spare duvet from the pantry. He was glad he had a bought a longer, wider, and generally comfier, couch some years ago. He seemed to spend half his time sleeping on it.

Several hours later and Grace was still awake. Boyd could hear her walking about, and he wasn't surprised. It wasn't the first time she had refused to sleep; with sleep came forgetting, and at times Grace really did not want to forget.

But eventually all sound ceased and Boyd crept upstairs to make sure she was okay. Sure enough, Grace was curled up towards his side of the bed, but he wouldn't get into it that night. She would have to sleep alone.

The next day, Grace came downstairs to find Boyd asleep on the couch. When she asked him why he was there, he said he'd fallen asleep watching TV. Grace smiled and kissed him. Boyd didn't even debate whether to tell her about the argument the night before or not; he'd already decided it just wasn't worth it.

TBC


	18. The Hope Dashed

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*August, 2028*

Boyd's life had somehow reached the peak of monotony. Each day was the same; he had stopped buying newspapers or watching too much television as it confused Grace more and more. Each day he would get up first, make breakfast for them both, then go shopping if needed. He'd do the washing and the house cleaning he could manage; he couldn't employ anyone to come in and help because it would upset Grace too much.

The only things which had really changed were his and Grace's appearances, and the faces in the photo frames. New photos replaced old ones each year, and the old ones were moved to other places in the house. None were thrown away. Personally, Boyd hated it. It showed him when his hair finally went completely white and then, even worse, when he started losing it. It showed him when his wrinkles were finally clear for all to see. When he finally had to start wearing glasses permanently. Worst of all, when he had to start using a walking stick, though he used it to hit Spencer with.

At least Boyd knew he was getting old. He'd lost count of how many times Grace had cried after seeing her reflection in the morning. He was sorely tempted to take all the mirrors down in the house. He kept telling her she had aged beautifully, and he meant it; whether Grace believed him or not was a different matter.

The phone rang, startling him. "Hello?" Boyd answered it.

*"Good morning, Boyd."*

"What's good about it?" he snapped.

*"Be nice, Boyd,"* Frankie replied.

"Who are you being grumpy at so early?" Grace asked.

"Frankie," he replied.

"Oh. Morning, Frankie."

*"Morning, Grace."*

Boyd scowled. "I'll go, shall I?"

*"No, stay there,"* Frankie said hurriedly.

"What is it? Don't tell me someone else has died."

*"That's not funny, Boyd,"* the ex-scientist chastised him.

"It wasn't supposed to be."

Frankie sighed. *"Look, if you're going to be a grumpy bastard, I won't give you the good news."*

Boyd sighed back. "Go on."

*"One of my old friend's sister's daughter…."*

"Frankie!"

*"Alright, someone I know, who's a doctor, told me about this new treatment that can help to reverse amnesia,"* Frankie said quickly.

There was a long, tense silence. "What?" Boyd replied eventually.

*"It's a trial procedure. I'm not sure about the exact details, but it involves some mild stimulus to the brain and a course of drugs. The idea is to repair the part of the brain that was damaged and to rebalance the chemicals."*

"The chances of it actually working?"

*"I don't know,"* Frankie admitted. *"As I said, it's only a trial."*

Boyd glanced quickly at Grace who was frowning at him. "Give me the details, Frankie."

*"Are you going to try it?"* The excitement was almost uncontained.

"No, but I know someone who might. I'll talk to you later."

"What was that all about?" Grace demanded to know as soon as Boyd had put the phone down.

Making sure she was sat, and taking her hands in his, he told her what Frankie had said. "So, what do you think?"

"I don't know, Boyd," Grace replied. "I mean, it sounds great, but…."

"What are the risks." He nodded. "I know. We don't have to go."

"What do you think?" she asked.

This time Boyd shook his head. "It doesn't matter, Grace. It's what you want to do that counts. You know I'll stay with you either way and that I love you no matter what."

Grace kissed him. "Thank you. So, who do we see about this treatment?"

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The appointment had been made, the risks had all been assessed, and the decision had been made. Grace had gone through all the tests required of her and was now sat waiting for the results. Boyd had told her not to get her hopes up, and if Grace was honest with herself, she hoped that the process *wouldn't* work. She had lived with her disability for so long that to suddenly remember everything scared her.

The doctor entered the room and looked extremely uncomfortable and Boyd could guess why. He tried not to grip Grace's hand too hard. "I'm very sorry, but there is nothing that can be done for your wife now. Her condition is so advanced that there is no chance of her memories ever returning."

Boyd didn't bother corrected him; it seemed pointless in light of the moment. "I see. Thank you."

"You must understand this is only a trial procedure," the doctor said hurriedly. "And your wife has been like this for some time." He stopped at Boyd's glare. "I'm sorry, I meant no disrespect."

"I know, and I understand that the chances of it working were slim. Thank you for your time." He stood and helped Grace up. "Come on," Boyd said to her, smiling. "Let's go home."

TBC


	19. The Peaceful Slumber

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written while listening to Avril Lavigne's 'Slipped Away'.  
> Chapter 1 of this story took place between last chapter and this chapter.

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*June, 2030*

Boyd sighed as he hobbled down the path. He couldn't believe only a month had passed. Only a month since she had left him, since his Grace had gone. He swallowed passed the lump that had appeared in his throat as he turned a corner.

They had buried Grace in a quiet corner of the graveyard, under an oak tree, and Boyd took a single flower down to her everyday. He would often think of how things had started, and how they had ended. Throughout it all, he always doubted his love for Grace, but it was the one thing she knew was true.

Grace had never asked for any of it to happen; not the accident, not Boyd dedicating the rest of his life to look after her. She didn't hate him for the times he had shouted at her, or when he wanted to just end it all because it was so damn difficult. No, Grace appreciated Boyd being in her life, appreciated everything he did for her, knowing how difficult it was for him as well.

"I miss you," Boyd whispered, grunting in pain as he bent to place a pale yellow lily on Grace's grave. "The bed is always cold now, and food hasn't got any taste. Is this what true love is like, Grace? It's like the air I breathe has been taken away."

He pushed himself back upright with a great deal of difficultly, and sat down on the bench nearby.

"Yes, Grace, I know. You want to know why I come here everyday and talk to thin air. I understand the psychology behind it, Dr. Foley, but it makes me feel better," Boyd said, sighing. "It's not fair, Grace. It took such a disaster for me to see the light, and then the life we should have had together - the joy, the fun - was marred. Then at the time we're getting ready to pop our clogs, you bloody well remember everything! And then you go and die!" He shook his head. "Not fair, not on, and not bloody funny either.

"Spencer's going to shout at me, you know. I didn't wait for him this morning. It was his turn to drive me here," Boyd explained. "But I couldn't wait to 'see' you, to be near you." He sighed again and tried to pull his coat tighter around himself. "I'm tired, Grace. I always thought that it would be a reprieve, a blessing, when you died. I'm sorry, but I did.

"But I was wrong, as usual. It's so hard now without you that I don't want to try any more. I don't want to play the game when there's no prize." A single tear rolled down Boyd's cheek, and he made no attempt to wipe it away. "I should have told you every single day, Grace; I love you. I love you and now, looking back, I wouldn't have changed a thing."

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A couple of hours later, Spencer pulled up at the graveyard, cursing Boyd for leaving without him. He almost shouted his former boss's name, but he remembered where he was and settled for searching silently.

When he found Boyd sat near Grace's grave, Spencer's heart almost broke. Boyd looked so small, so fragile and so vulnerable all alone, and Spencer wondered how long he would last without Grace.

"Come on, Boyd, let's get you home," he said quietly. When he received no reply, Spencer frowned. "Boyd?"

The younger man stepped forward and touched the older man's shoulder tentatively. When Boyd didn't move at all, Spencer shook him. Still nothing.

Spencer's breath caught in his throat, and he was surprised to see his hand shaking as he leant forward to check Boyd's pulse. Nothing.

It was only then that Spencer realised how rigid Boyd looked, and how cold his skin felt to the touch. With a sigh, he pulled his phone out and rang for an ambulance, and then he called Frankie afterwards to give her the news. Then he sat down next to Boyd and swallowed the tears away.

"Don't worry, Grace," Spencer said quietly. "He'll be with you soon."

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There was some debate as to where to bury Boyd, but in the end, Frankie and Spencer agreed that his ashes should be put on top of Grace's; that way they would always be together.

The service was short and simple, and the attendance was minimal, but there was a surprise. On the edge of the group, at the back, Frankie spotted Dr. Felix Gibson. She nodded, and Felix nodded back. At the end of the service, Frankie turned to tell Spencer about the scientist's appearance, but when they both looked over, Felix had gone.

A simple wreath had been delivered, with a card that bore a message from Stella. She and Spencer rarely talked any more, but he knew she was happy in France with her family, and he in turn was happy for her.

"Who would have thought things would turn out like this?" Frankie said quietly. Everyone else had gone, leaving her and Spencer alone.

He shrugged. "Not me."

"Any regrets?"

"Plenty. You?"

Frankie nodded. "Too many." She sighed. "They really loved each other, didn't they?" She then shook her head. "I never thought they would make it this far, you know."

"Me neither," Spencer agreed. "I guess Boyd surprised everyone."

"No one more than himself, I think." Thunder suddenly rolled overhead they looked up, surprised. Frankie then looked at Spencer and smiled. "Sounds like Grace is giving Boyd hell."

"What? Already? Even he couldn't have pissed her off so soon," Spencer replied.

"Are you sure?" Frankie asked as lightning streaked across the sky.

Spencer paused. "No. Come on, let's get back to the car before we get soaked."

Frankie nodded and took one last look at the graves. "Bye, Boyd, Grace."

"Bye, Grace. Bye, boss," Spencer added, and Frankie slipped her hand into his as they walked away.

"What are you thinking?" Frankie asked as they sat in the car.

"The storm," Spencer replied, starting the car engine. "I bet Boyd left the toilet seat up."

Frankie stared at him for a few moments before laughing. There really wasn't anything else for it.

TBC


	20. The Truth

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*June, 2040*

Spencer limped down the path, two flowers in his hand. Frankie had wanted to come with him, but for once he had asked to be alone. He grimaced absently at the pain in his leg. He forgot exactly when he had been shot, but it was enough that he had been and now it hurt like hell. Despite it being the middle of summer, it was turning out to be a typically English summer which meant a fine drizzle covered everything and was busy soaking Spencer to the bone.

He couldn't believe ten years had passed - a full decade - since Boyd and Grace had died. He still found it hard to believe that Boyd had looked after Grace for over twenty years; he never thought his former boss was capable of such sensitivity.

Spencer reached his destination and sighed. If only he had known such sensitivity, then perhaps things would have turned out differently. He shook his head. His life held many small regrets, but only one major one and it was the regret that occupied more and more of his time.

He bent awkwardly and placed a pale yellow lily on Grace's grave, and then a simple white carnation on Boyd's. "I know you don't like flowers, but I didn't think a bottle of scotch would last very long," Spencer said, sitting down on the bench nearby, the same one he had found Boyd on so many years ago.

"I need to talk to you," Spencer started a while later. "I've got all these things going through my head and there's no one else who'll listen. Well, apart from Frankie, but she talks back. That's a big problem at times. Thing is, I don't know where to start. I suppose at the beginning.

"Things were going great with the team. Not perfect, but we argued less than when you were boss, Boyd. Partly because Tabitha wasn't as good as peace keeping as Grace," Spencer admitted. "In fact, she kept throwing petrol on the fire." He smiled and shook his head. "I miss her sometimes. Anyway, one day we were discussing a case. Graeme and I were sure we were right with our conclusion, but Eve and Stella had banded together and kept insisting they were right. Tabitha was, unusually, trying to keep the peace. It wasn't working. Anyway, I don't remember exactly what was said, but Stella suddenly announced she was leaving. Going back to France with her boyfriend to play happy families.

"At first I thought she was just joking, so I rubbished her statement. Eve then leapt to Stella's defence and told me that just because I couldn't be happy, I shouldn't stop others from being happy. Angrily, I told her I could be happy; I wasn't Boyd." Spencer hung his head. "Sorry about that, boss, but you know Grace's 'repressed, depressed and unloved' comment stuck with all of us. Yes, Grace, we heard. I'm sorry, both of you. I regretted the comment as soon as I'd said it. Eve stared at me and said - and I remember this clearly - 'no, you're not Boyd because he's ten times the man you'll ever be.' She then stormed off back to the lab while Stella left crying, presumably to find Vincent. Graeme and Tabitha both sat there looking very uncomfortable.

"I wasn't about to let Eve's comments just drop so I followed her into the lab. I remember we argued heavily, but I don't recall what was said. She suddenly started throwing things at me, and you both know that what was in the lab was highly breakable, and probably flammable," Spencer continued. "We somehow ended up talking about Stella again, with Eve nagging me to apologise.

"I remember clearly I told her she was obsessed with Stella. I asked if she loved her. I was being stupid, I know, but we were arguing. You two know what that's like." Spencer put his collar up to ward off the rain and leant back against the bench. "Eve stared at me and yelled some more, telling me I was a stupid ape and that no, for the record, she didn't love Stella, only as a friend, but she did love someone else. But they didn't even see her, they were too wrapped up in themselves."

He suddenly got to his feet and started pacing. "But Eve again came out with the comparison to you, Boyd, meaning that you were a far better person than me. I'd had enough. I told her she was fired. I stormed back upstairs; Stella had returned. I told her she was fired as well, and then I went into my office. I slammed the door and counted to ten. Sure enough, the phone rang. It was Tabitha. She spoke less than five words before I put the phone down on her. I didn't want to talk with anybody.

"It was only as I sat with my head in my hands that I realised Eve had been right. Somewhere along the line I really *had* turned into you, Boyd, only even more short-sighted, narrow-minded and grumpier. I realised the job really had eaten me up whole and spat me back out barely alive, and it was then I made the decision. I called the commissioner and told him Eve and Stella were leaving, and so was I, and that there should not be another cold case squad. I told him it wasn't worth it any more, and surprisingly, he listened."

Spencer was walking in small, slow circles now, his head hung. "It wasn't until quite a while later that I began to wonder who Eve had been talking about. She was in love with someone; was it me?" he asked. "Did I have that shot at happiness and ruin it completely? I thought it might have been Graeme, but he dropped the bombshell he was gay. Tabitha's married, and you two had each other. Of course, that doesn't exclude anyone from the equation, but Eve did say this person was too wrapped up in themselves." Spencer sighed. "You know what the biggest problem was? I couldn't apologise. I wanted to, so many times, but I just couldn't. And before she died, Eve tried to contact me. I don't know why, I wasn't around to take the call and there was no message left or any contact details."

He stopped walking and sat back down on the bench heavily. "I envy you two. And Stella and Tabitha and Graeme. No matter how focussed on your work you became, you still managed to see the light before it was too late. But not me." He shook his head, his expression one of twisted self-loathing. "I don't know how I came to be such a bastard, but now I'm paying for it. I'm alone, and I always will be."

A figure, who had caught the last part of the 'conversation', walked quietly to the bench and put one hand on Spencer's bowed head, the other on his back. "You're not alone, Spence," Frankie said. "You've got me."

"Don't even deserve that."

Frankie sat down next to him and took both his hands in hers. "You've always got me, Spence. And I've always got you. Haven't you learnt that by now? We're stuck with each other. All we need to do is live in the same house and we could be an old married couple."

"We're not married," Spencer pointed out.

"So? We act like it."

He gave a small laugh. "True. So, how about it?"

Frankie stared. "How about what? Getting married?"

Spencer shook his head and laughed again. "No, moving in together. My place is too big for one but I don't want to go to anywhere smaller."

Frankie sat back and leant her head against his shoulder. "My place could fit two of us in."

"Spare bedroom?"

"'Fraid not."

"Your room?"

"Would have to be."

"Sex?"

"Only on the weekends and only if you're very, very lucky."

"No different to now then."

Frankie laughed and squeezed his arm. "Come on, let's go before we both catch our deaths from the weather."

"Yeah."

"Spencer, let the past go. You've been carrying this problem for too long," Frankie told him seriously. "If you want to apologise to Eve, then just go to her grave and say you're sorry. And if you get lightning bolt up your arse it means she hasn't forgiven you."

"That's what I'm afraid of," Spencer admitted, pulling a face.

Frankie squeezed his arm again. "Do you want me to come with you, husband?"

"No, wife, go home to the kitchen where you belong."

"For that, you can sleep in the shed."

"You have a shed?"

"No, that's the whole point."

FIN


End file.
